


Monsters and Motors

by Bozo



Series: Monsters and Motors [1]
Category: Monster Girl Encyclopedia
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fantasy, Monster Girls, Multi, Other, Rape, Violence, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 61,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8516257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bozo/pseuds/Bozo
Summary: Monster Girl Encyclopedia Self Insert. Mature. When a young man regains consciousness after a horrific motorcycle accident, he finds himself placed in one of the most controversial and debauched settings the world has to offer. Can he find his way home before he succumbs to the dangers lurking around every corner in this world? Or will he become a part of something much greater?





	1. Chapter 1

Bozo Note: Just a heads up guys this fic is by Dr. Doctor on the website Spacebattles. He just lets me upload his uncensored chapters here. Any note with 'A/N' is by Dr. Doctor, not me. Hope you guys like this fic, I sure as hell enjoy reading it. 

 

-

A/N: I own nothing. 

Alright, this whole creative writing thing is new to me. I don't do it often outside of college classes so any critique on how to improve would help me immensely. This fic is inspired by Fission Battery and Lucky Chaos, who have done two excellent Monster Girl SIs already. 

I saw MGQ and Monster Monsume, but none for MGE. And I thought to myself, "Hell, if they can make those settings appropriate enough for Spacebattles, then I can make this work too!" I know the rules, and what's allowed and what isn't. If I do post something that is a gray area, do tell me so I can rectify it!

Regardless, I hope you all enjoy. Writing is difficult, but quite rewarding. I hope to get better during my stay on this forum. Thanks once again, and enjoy!

\----------

Spoiler: Gunship blasting through my helmet.

It had been quiet the night I went out for my last ride. I couldn’t hear anything but the sound of crickets in those rocky fields that bordered both sides of that dilapidated backside road. I could only focus on weaving in between those faded white lines, the way the wheels of my bike glided seamlessly over the grayed asphalt of that road. I remembered how quickly I had left the house that evening. I remember the anger that propelled me forward to climb on my motorcycle and leave my cellphone and wallet behind. I could recall that time where I didn’t want contact with anyone. I just wanted a few moments to myself, to go to a place where I could think clearly and get my head straight.

 

The reason was petty- why I had made my little sister cry. She was just a kid, she didn’t know any better. It wasn’t the first time I had a falling out with my loved ones. I just never expected it would be my last.

It was stupid of me to wear a heavy tinted helmet in the middle of the night. It was stupid of me to leave the house in an infantile fit of frustration and rage.

Running away seemed like the best choice at the time. There wasn’t a moment where I didn’t think I was a bad brother and an even worse son. I just thought...that why would anyone want a dumbass as their kid, you know? Hell, I just wanted to drive somewhere far away. I guess that deep down we were all a little fucked up.

If people hated you, and you didn’t understand why, then why not give them a reason?

All my horrible decisions and emotional outbreaks caught up with me in a single moment. I didn’t notice that the road gave way to an intersection. I realized my mistake pretty damn fast when I smashed into a guardrail at ninety miles an hour, feeling myself being lifted into the air as my Victory Octane crumpled and all but exploded underneath me. As I felt that warm summer breeze whistling pass me on my path forward, I could’ve sworn that I could count every star in the Florida sky. The crickets had stopped singing, and I felt myself being sucked into an all consuming void that enveloped me in darkness. My eyes only widened in surprise as the silence got to me, followed by a choked back gurgle that tore through my throat as I felt an audible crunching sensation in my neck.

A sharp pain shot its way up my spine, and I felt my toes curling as I struggled to maintain consciousness.

I felt a fear that was unfamiliar to me; I didn’t even have a chance to scream. I blinked and I was dead.

Dying was scary, but never getting to say goodbye was downright terrifying.

-

I felt frigid.

My blood felt like ice coursing through my veins, a crimson slush that pulsed in my arteries and sloshed around in my heart. My tongue felt brittle as it hung loosely in my mouth, and as I ran it over my lips, I noticed they were cracked and split. With every breath my lungs rattled in protest, and suddenly I was hacking and wheezing as I my eyes shot open.

I began to sit up, only stopping as I felt something pushing up against my chest. I blinked, my mind racing as I looked around, desperately hoping that I could find something that would help me understand just what the hell happened to me. Yet, in the dim light I could find nothing but the outline of some apparition, a pitch black figure that somehow managed to be darker that the blackness around it.

“Calm down, young man. You are safe now.” A voice called out to me. It was masculine, smooth, low and refined from years of experience and education. It sounded Italian. Strange, all things considered.

“W-Who’re you?” I stammered out, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

I felt the pressure on my chest being lifted, instead shifting over to my neck as I felt a pair of fingers gingerly grasp my chin. Suddenly, light flooded into my vision as I groaned and pulled away.

“I advise you to be still,” The voice said again, sounding further away than it previously did. “You are extremely lucky. This was my first time doing reconstructive work on someone’s neck.”

My eyes adjusted in that dim light, blurry shapes and dull colors contorting among my perception as I blinked once more.

Immediately I knew something was wrong.

Two dark circles stared back at me, the light of what I presumed to be a torch casting a faint glimmer on those black rimmed goggles. The person in front of me was what I could best describe as some old plague doctor from the 15th century. The light flickered and waned against his beaked alabaster mask, his head covered with some wide brimmed hat that dipped below his forehead, covering the uppermost portion of his eyes. He smelled of rosemary and mint, flecks of brown dotting the front of his sable tunic. Long dark sleeves parted way to show gloved hands stained crimson, the scent of iron permeating through the air and causing me to breathe shallow.

“To answer your question, boy, I am Ciro Cardone. My professions are many, my pursuits endless. You’ve made quite a mess of yourself, young man.”

He paused.

“A cracked cervical vertebrae, severe inflammation of the nerves, as well as a few herniated discs in your spine. -That- is what plagues you right now, young man. I’ve never seen an individual in such a poor state. Luckily I had enough herbs and potions in my bag to revive you. Milk of the Willow is quite effective for repairing muscle tears and bone fractures.”

Ciro placed a finger on the tip of his beak, tapping it lightly as he glanced away from me.

“Milk of the what now?” I asked, wincing as a stabbing sensation tore it’s way through my neck. “This is very fuckin’ strange, doc. What, with your freakin’ ancient get up and strange terminology. You sure you just ain’t some larper prancing around in a hut in the middle of nowhere?”

“Oh dear, you have quite the mouth don’t you?” Ciro replied, a muffled chuckle coming from him as he shook his head. “I should say the same about you. I don’t recognize your attire, stranger. You wear some quite peculiar armor. The material of the helmet was quite hard, yet it wasn’t any metal I was familiar with.”

“What, you’ve never seen a motorcycle helmet before?” I asked, finally managing to sit up straight.

“Enlighten me,” The good doctor began, cocking his head. “What is this ‘Motorcycle’ you speak of?”

“You don’t know what a motorcycle is? What century have you been living in?” I said flatly, my eyes narrowing at him as I felt myself begin to frown.

“The Era of the Succubus, unlike you, you…” He trailed off, looking at me up and down. “Simpleton.”

“Stop kidding around, Doctor, I’m being serious.” I growled, rubbing my eyes.

Damn, it was still too dark to see.

“As am I, young man.” Ciro stood, tapping the wooden floor with his foot before turning around. “It’s quite late, you are welcome to join me for breakfast in the morning. However, I must be going to bed. Only then will we play your little game of questions.”

He reached for the torch that was fastened against the wall, removing it from it’s iron fixture before bringing it to his face.

“Hopefully you will be more pleasant. I do hope you enjoy the bed, it’s been a quite some time since I’ve utilized the guest room.”

He walked silently through the doorway, the light fading off into a hallway before disappearing altogether. I said nothing, for I had never been more uneasy in my entire life.

Dr. Cardone, he…

He had outlines. It was as if he was a fucking drawing or something!

I shook my head, ignoring another onset of neck pain before placing my head against the pillow. I was delirious. Everything would go back to normal. It was all just a bad dream.

I hoped.

Closing my eyes, I resigned myself to a restless slumber.  
\--

Ciro said he had to check on me multiple times that night. He said I awoke screaming, mumbling something incoherent to him before drifting back to sleep.

He said I fidgeted in my sleep, tossing and turning among the sheets, perspiration dripping from my brow and slithering past my pale, quivering lips. That I whimpered, turned over multiple times and just groaned into the pillow. When my body lurched forward, he grabbed me and forcefully kept me down, watching as my eyes shot open and and began to frantically scanning around the room, fearful of whatever imaginary threat they could conceive in the dimness of his quarters. When I awoke, however, nothing was perceived, save for some old furniture and the softening outlines of my own shadow. It was through this revelation that I allowed my mind to ease, and in turn, cause my frantic heartbeat to simmer down into a light thumping in my chest.

“It was just a nightmare, young man.” Ciro consoled me, dabbing my forehead with a wet cloth. “That’s all it was, a nightmare.”

I turned to him, and, noticing that I was still seeing everything as if stuck I was stuck in a cartoon, buried my face into his shoulder, exhaling quietly into his neck before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I remained like that for a few moments, only looking up when he told me to drink the greenish liquid that laid secured in a corked vial between his fingers.

“What’s happening to me, Doctor?” I mumbled, “What’s going on? Where am I?”

“I...I don’t know,” Ciro told me, his voice unsteady as he handed me the tube. “But here’s something to bring your fever down.”

The light from the early morning sun pierced the grey clouds that drifted up above through the window, its rays beginning to seep into the gloomy darkness of the bedroom, bathing the area in a golden shade and causing the furniture to radiate with the flaxen hue of sunlight.

Ciro bid me to wait a moment, leaving the room briefly before coming back, my clothes folded neatly in his grasp as he placed them on my lap.

“Get dressed, and I will tell you what I know.”

-  
It took me awhile to get dressed, but I was finally done. I rolled my shoulders back, tugging on the zipper of my leather biking jacket before buttoning my jeans. I slipped on my fancy schmancy ballistic touring boots, kicking the edge of the bed as I wedged my foot deeper inside the footwear.

“Rocket.” Ciro addressed me, from the doorway, causing me to turn around and cock an eyebrow.

“Rocket?” I parroted, staring at him with confusion.

“Ah, don’t mind me. I’m just reading the back of your coat, is all.”

“Oh.” I said simply, fiddling with my gloves as I walked towards him. “Yeah, my folks got me it for Christmas.”

“Christmas?”

“It’s a long story."

\------  
I stared blankly at the bowl of porridge that rested in front of me, poking it idly with my spoon before swirling it around with a sense of morbid fascination. Drawn food...

I wonder if it tastes like acrylic paint…

“Your complexion has returned to a healthier shade.” Ciro noted, folding his hands as he watched me from across the table in his kitchen.

“It has? I hadn’t noticed. What color was it before?” I asked, bringing the spoon to my lips and taking an ever so small amount of gruel into my mouth.

Huh, it tasted like oatmeal. Fuck, this place is weird.

“I dare say, I could’ve mistaken you for a male zombie.” Ciro chuckled, “You were practically gray!”

“That sounds...bad.” I managed to eventually say, dropping the spoon back in my bowl. “I’m failing to grasp something here, what’s so surprising about a zombie that happens to be a man?”

Ciro crossed his arms, placing a gloved hand underneath his beak as he looked up thoughtfully. “Well, for as long as I have been alive I can only recall ever seeing female monsters.”

“Female monsters?”

“Indeed. Although there was a time long ago in which monsters came in all shapes and sizes, slaughtering people and consuming them-”

“Alright, wait, wait, wait.” I interrupted him, holding out my hand. “What are you talking about? Monster girls? Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Ciro stood silently from his seat, placing a black leather bag on the table and rummaging through it, withdrew yet another corked jar, placing it before me so that I could see the label.

Reaching forward, I lifted the jar to my face, my eyes narrowing at it as I examined it closer.

The label was printed on white parchment with navy blue outlines, a big breasted horned woman plastered on the front, staring at the viewer with soft and playful eyes as she smooshed a bronze cowbell between her chest. Her hair was cut short, ivory white with black highlights on her bangs that were distributed evenly around her head.

I nodded slowly, placing the jar back down on the table and looked back towards Ciro.

“Holstaur’s milk?” I asked, my faith in God now fully diminished.

“Quite so. I highly suggest you do not drink that. I’m currently using it for some...experiments.”

“Alright Doc, alright.” I nodded.

Damn, all this time I thought Spacebattles was full of shit.

“One more thing, Doctor Cardone.” I began, crossing my arms. “I need my helmet, and directions to the place where you found me.”

The masked man nodded, wiping his gloved hands with rag as he spoke. “Very well. I trust you will be on your way then?”

“Honestly,” I began, leaning back into my seat, “I don’t what the hell to do at this point.”


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

Well, so far so good. I'm surprised that people are liking this so far. Ya'll are making my heart feel all warm and fuzzy. I'm going to try to be posting at least a thousand words a day while my mojo is still working. I like a good daily update with my stories. 

Anyway, hopefully I'm portraying the monsters well enough for people. I must say, this is difficult. Yet, I'm a glutton for punishment.

\--- 

It had been six hours since I left Ciro’s house before I realized that I didn’t know how to read a map. Sure, it was well drawn, complete with handwritten directions on the top. Yet, being born in the era of the GPS, I didn’t spend a good portion of my life brushing up on bullshit such as geography and land navigation.

In hindsight, it probably would have been extremely beneficial of me to do so.

“Just where in the hell am I?” I muttered to myself, looking up from the map and taking a look at my surroundings.

I was currently on a dirt path that led to some settlement called ‘Autumn’s Peak.’ Apparently the place had been in a state of perpetual Fall for as long as anyone could remember, or so Ciro said. Seeing as I saw no forests, no buildings, and certainly not a plethora of fulvous colors, I definitely wasn’t around that area.

Rather, I saw nothing but wide spanning fields of grass, shades of green akin to that of the Emerald Isle. It was oddly comforting, this otherworldly beauty.

I lifted a hand to my face, opening and closing it gently as I felt my eyes soften. “You too, huh?”

I hadn’t had much time to think about it until now, the way I looked.

Suddenly turning into a drawing makes one feel awfully strange. You don’t feel like yourself. Everything you knew and ever will know just felt wrong, unnatural. Even if the entire world appeared the same, and everyone was just like you, there was a certain sense of isolation. The more you dwelled upon the thought the more alien you thought you were, and when it came down to it, you wondered if there was ever a way to feel normal again.

Such a petty thing to think about, I know, but who is to say it’s not something we often take for granted?

Shaking my head, I returned my attention to the map, running a finger over the path I had currently taken.

“So am I supposed to go left or right?” I asked myself, pointing to a spot in the map in which the path split into two directions.

“Fuck me! I can’t even read this guy’s handwriting! It’s all in cursive or some shit!” I growled, crumpling up the map in my frustration before tossing it to the side of the road.

I’ll find my own damn way thank you very much.  
\--  
I was lost.

Truly and utterly lost.

The dying sun dipped below the flower speckled hillsides as night began to settle across the meadow. A cool and gentle light breeze blew across the exposed skin of my neck and wrists, inadvertently causing me to shiver as I grabbed the collar of my jacket and tucked my chin forward.

"I really should've kept that map." I whispered, shaking my head at my own sheer stupidity.

Hell, what was I thinking? I never should have left Ciro's house in the first place. I was under equipped, possessed nothing but the clothes on my back, and was currently in the middle of some godforsaken field, which was probably infested with monsters and beasts to boot.

Not only that, but I was damn near starving. I hadn't eaten anything since the artistic (yet surprisingly edible) porridge Ciro gave me at breakfast.

If there's anything I learned about myself in the brief amount of time I've spent in this place, is that I'm absolutely horrendous at this 'adventuring' thing.

This is why I don't play MMOs.

I wandered for a few more minutes, my heart racing in the dwindling light of a dying day. There was quite a bit to be concerned about, but I felt that my mind was too cluttered to think straight.

Fuck, how I missed my ride.

When I had finally decided to stop and rest for the evening, the reign of dusk had long since ended. Now, only the stars remained in the pitch black sky, gray clouds swirling amongst the cosmos, almost indistinguishable.

Pale moonlight washed over the land as the sound of crickets began to fill the fields of flowers and grass.

I looked up, noticing that despite all things, there was a full moon. It was one distinct positive in a storm of issues, a brief bright moment in a blizzard of blights and ill fortune.

It reminded me of the time I took my baby sister out stargazing for the first time one October night. I tried to tell her the constellations and legends of the ancient Greeks and Romans, but she was more interested in playing with leaves than mythology.

"I miss you, kiddo." I muttered, wrapping my fingers around the edges of my scuffed helmet and tucking it under my arm.

I had to keep moving. I knew jack shit about KC's world when it came down to it. Oh sure, I knew a couple monsters here and there, as well as the gist of the setting, but sure as hell not much more than that.

I groaned as got to my feet, running the palm of my hand over my neck as I rolled my shoulders. It was strange, fantasy medicine. I didn't even had a scar. Come to think about it, I didn't really have anything that told me I had surgery. Well, minus the pale skin.

It was time to press onward.

-  
Something was different.

The wind carried upon it a sweet melody that tantalized my ears in comforting warmth, and already I felt a rising heat deep within in my chest as I looked around for source of the sound. It was beautiful, this music. It's difficult to describe it. Yet, it gave me the feeling of utter bliss, and I wanted to hear more. It was enticingly enchanting, more lively and emotional than any orchestra that I ever heard in my own world.

I stumbled forward, as if intoxicated, this harmony enrapturing me in a sort of drunken pleasure.

That was the first sign when I knew something was off. I made an effort to stop my legs, deliberately making my movements jerkier in an effort to back away. Yet, they would not obey.  
-  
My entranced self had brought me to the bottom of a massive hill, the edges glistening with evening dew under the dim moonlight, the sides sloping narrowly downward.

An old tree was rooted at the top, standing lonely upon that hill like a stalwart sentry, overlooking the valley in solemn silence. The trunk glimmered in an amber hue, as if someone had decided to light a fire next to it. The volume of the music was increasing intensely, and so my in my mind's false eagerness it propelled itself forward to reach the peak.

Higher and higher.

Upward Bound.

Steeper and ever more slippery.

My boots slid across the dark grass, causing me to fall on my knees more than a few times in my efforts to climb this damnable slope.

"Jeeze, you'd have to be part mountain goat to climb this bullshit." I growled, raising my one free arm and grasping the even ground that laid at the top.

I clambered to my feet, placing my helmet over my head and sliding the visor up. Both of my arms were numb, and my jeans were damp and stained on the knees.

I placed a gloved hand on the base of the tree, panting softly when I noticed the pale wallowings of firelight dancing upon the faded colors of my jacket.

"Oh my, a visitor?" A voice sang out through the darkness, sultry and low. Feminine. Husky, but also melodious and jovial. "And to think, I thought I'd be spending this chilly night alone."

My heart thudded heavily in my ears, the music fading out as the overwhelming sound of my own breathing encompassed me.

Looking up, I found that my worst fear had come to fruition.

Amethyst eyes stared at me beyond the flickering flames of the campfire, softening as they continued to behold me in their sight.

"Come closer, Sir. There is nothing to be afraid of."

"I'd rather not." I replied, finding my voice faltering.

How could one be confident in a situation such as this?

"I would be a poor host if I did not share my fire with a guest."

"And you are?" I shot back, clenching my fists as I deliberated on whether or not to just roll down the hill.

Finally, a face came towards the flames, and I felt my cheeks burn and become tinged with blush.

She possessed a beautiful visage; carefully sculpted cheeks and flawless skin without blemish. Her lips were soft, plump, and well formed. They glistened near the fire as if graced with gloss, her mouth shifting into a gentle smile with each drawn out word she spoke. Wine colored locks fell graciously past her eyes, their color vibrant and lively, tinged with maroon. They ended in a well formed braid that laid delicately upon her slender shoulder, a grape vine intertwined in her hair as if holding her braid into place. It all accumulated it a luscious bunch of grapes that dangled past her lilac earrings, and, much like her beauty, was amaranthine. But the most prevalent, without a doubt, were the rather large and curvy goat horns that protruded from the sides of her head.

"My name is Diana, but you can call me anything you want, Sir."

"How accommodating of you." I replied, unsure of how to respond.

"It's in my nature." She giggled, standing up and coming closer.

'Satyros.'

Or so the Wandering Scholar called them. She looked exactly like the one in the book.

Shit, when did my life get this weird?

Her hooves were muffled by the dew covered grass as she came, her hips swaying back and forth, each step deliberate, seductive.

Already she was placing her body against mine, her white dress gloves gingerly tracing down my chest as she placed her chin upon my shoulder.

Then, with honeyed words and whispers sweet, she spoke to me.

"My, what strange attire. It is unlike any armor I've seen before. Tell me, are you a knight?"

I inhaled deeply, unintentionally catching the scent of her hair. She smelled of sugared wine, and a whiff of her hot breath was pleasantly sweet and tinged with alcohol.

Fitting, of course. She was a lady who knew how to handle a few drinks.

"You could say that, my mount is currently elsewhere at the moment." I managed to say, trying to find the confidence to get through this.

"Mm..." She hummed, taking her chin off my shoulder as she stared into my eyes, searching. "In the meantime, why don't we share a drink? It's been awhile since I've spent time with so..."

She flicked her silky tail against my waist, sending a shiver down my spine as I broke away from her gaze, waiting as she trailed off.

"...lovely a gentleman."

"Is that so?" Was all I could say.

There'd be time to figure this out. I just gotta hold my liquor in the meantime. Maybe I'd be fine, I wasn't from this universe, after all.

Or maybe that'd have the opposite effect.

Fuck.

Alright, time to worry.  
\--

A/N: Thinking about getting a beta reader, to fix my mistakes and shoot ideas off of, as well as to correct any lore mistakes I'm making. Now, where to find one...


	3. Chapter 3

/N: THOUSAND WORD DAILY UPDATE GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Now, this is basically like half a chapter. However, leaving it off like this makes for some excellent thought on what will soon happen to this guy. Let's just say he deviated from his original plan, and then deviated from the deviation. 

I'll call it chapter 3. I'll be writing all day tomorrow though, so the next one might be a little longer than two thousand words. 

I'm rambling now. Anyway, enjoy! 

\---

Diana took my hand in hers and led me to a clearing where the grass dwindled down into earth and rock. It was almost spherical in shape, the dusky ground illuminated by a crackling campfire in the middle. A sizable tent was set up in the far left hand corner, the flaps rustling softly in the evening wind, parting way to reveal a dimly lit interior of which I could not clearly describe.

Near the fire was an old log, the purpose of which I could only assume would be for sitting. Leaned up against it was a silver flute, it's shape akin to that of a horn of some wild beast. Elaborate engravings were etched on the front, delicately crafted grape vines swaddling around the base of the instrument, wrapping around the tone holes before looping above in the fragile shape of a heart.

The music of the heart was ever truthful, I supposed.

"Come, sit with me." She let go of my hands, slowly strutting over to the log and taking a seat. She curled in her luxuriant silken legs, looking towards me as she closed her eyes and patted the vacant spot next to her.

"You plan on getting me inebriated, do you?" I asked her, my voice full of mirth as I smirked underneath my helmet.

"By Bacchus, I wouldn't dream of it." She replied, placing her dainty hands over her mouth and lightly shaking her head. "I merely wish to get to know you, Stranger. You look like you have been wandering for quite some time. What made you decide to visit the Fields of Lucio?"

She told me where I currently was. Good. Perhaps she could give me directions towards civilization. I'd have to play my cards carefully, I don't want to appear too outlandish to her. It would be best to keep her interest about me to a minimum.

"Oh, you know, quests and stuff like that." I replied, walking forward and taking a seat next to her, making sure to give the goat a wide berth before continuing. "I actually ran out of supplies some time before coming here. I'm just looking for a vendor of some sort to restock before I head out again."

I rubbed my eyes in thought for a brief moment before turning to her once again. "I was about to-"

She closed the sizeable gap I left between us in less than a second. I didn't even see her move, and now she was already next to me, one of her gloved hands nestled on my leg as she nodded her head, listening.

"Mm, is that so?" She whispered in my ear, giving my thigh a tantalizing caress before reaching towards the pouch at her side. "Well, I would be glad to help care for you in anyway I can."

"You're too kind." I stuttered, stumbling over my words like an idiot as I felt the beginnings of a blush creeping up my cheeks.

"What a poor predicament to be in." She pouted, parting the dark bangs from her forehead and staring at me with both of her gentle, lilac eyes. "I'm glad you found me while under such circumstances."

If you count you finding someone as a result of them playing enchanting and mystical music that devoids the person of all rhyme or reason then, sure, I suppose I found her. But I wasn't going to say that directly to her face.

"It will all be better soon." She began, lifting up a corked bottle of some vicorous crimson substance, "Now, drink with me. Let us forget all the issues that plague us. There is nothing wrong with indulging in the fruits of this world, wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course." I replied, taking the bottle from her and uncorking it with an audible pop. "You'll have to forgive me if I pass out, I'm rather shit at holding my liquor."

Wait a minute...

Wasn't there something on the profile about the followers of Bacchus looking down on using alcohol to take advantage of the unconscious? Intoxicated, hell yeah, you could go to town on that shit. But unconscious? Absolutely despicable. I think I found my out! I'll fake passing out and she'll leave me alone , allowing me to sneak away before morning.

With that thought in mind, I took off my helmet and raised the bottle to my lips.

"Aren't you forgetting something, stud?" Diana suddenly said to me, causing me to pause and look at her, my eyebrow raised in curiousity.

She smiled at me, her locks falling from her forehead as they covered her right eye once more. She held two bronze chalices in her hands. One was dainty, quite tiny, it appeared to be used only for sipping. The other one was, well, bigger than her entire hand.

"This one is yours." She giggled, handing me the colossal sized chalice. "You are quite handsome Sir, but even I refuse to let you drink straight from the bottle."

"Apologies." I smiled, pouring a reasonable amount of wine into the cup as I swirled it around, watching the cloudy liquid intermingle with the glimmering light of the fire.

My Mom was big on wine. White wine, red wine, Merlot, pinot noir, all that bullshit.

Hell, she even told me it was the drink of love, meant to be enjoyed with a loved one beside candlelit dinners.

Shaking my head at the thought, I raised the chalice to my lips and took a small sip.

-

"Holshy shit, thish is s-some good ass wine, goat lady." I slurred, taking another chug of my cup before dropping down my third bottle, now empty. "How...howsh come you ain't even drunk?"

"I devote my life to making only the finest wines for man and monster." Diana replied, rubbing my head as I laid between her furry legs, my back towards her. Every time she spoke I would have to crane my head upwards, to which she would lovingly stroke my cheek and whisper some sweet nothing directly to my face.

"Well, ish good. Real good. Yoush should gimmie the recipe sometime."

"Oh, I will, my love. I will." She spoke to me gently, snaking a hand underneath my jacket and looking down towards me, her eyes softening, full of love. "We'll be together for awhile, I'm sure of it."

I paused.

Oh shit! The plan!

"Excuse me Dorito-" I began.

"Diana, hon."

"Diana, I...gottscha take a leak."

Her eyes widened, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she glanced way, little pink hearts forming in her pupils.

God, that's fucking creepy.

"Go on, big boy, don't let me keep you. But...do hurry back. I'd like to play a song for you."

I nodded dumbly, waddling off with my helmet tucked under my arm.

"What a man..." I heard her whisper wistfully as I went behind the lonely tree.

I undid my fly, dropped down my pants, and...

Proceeded to haul ass.

\----

A/N:

Nothing like a little comedy, eh?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: 

Hey guys, glad ya'll are enjoying this so far. Here's another update for you. I think the story is starting to pick up now!  
\----------

Have you ever stumbled through the night with your pants around your ankles?

It's not a good experience.

I spent the rest of the night fumbling to pull up my pants while hiding underneath a bolder. Not only that, but I had to keep my visor down so that the world around me sounded muffled. I didn't want to be enchanted by some shitty flute music that would lead me back to square one.

However, I will admit that the cold was no longer a problem. Whatever had been in that wine left me feeling pleasantly warm and rather giddy. If I had seen myself that night, I would never be able to look at my reflection again.

And who would?

Especially when you'd just been huddling under a rock the previous night, giggling to yourself with your pants down and your hands over your ears.

Imagine the shame you would feel!

Either way, I never did see that goat lady again. I can assume she noticed that I never came back and went looking, probably playing the pied piper all through the evening in order to find me.

Yet, I made it. Sure, I barely survived my first night in this world and acted like an irrational idiot for a large portion of the day, but still, I was alive and unmarried.

-  
As soon as the light broke the holes in the rock I under, I cracked open my eyes, rolling out from underneath before stumbling to my feet. God, did my back hurt. Stretching, I looked around, flipping up my visor and taking long inhale of fresh air.

"Shit, that was too close." I chuckled to myself, beginning to walk forward as I plotted my next course of action.

Fields of Lucio.

That's where I was if Diana had been telling the truth. It came to me easy enough.

I paused, and turned around.

Looking at rock that had been my shelter, I noticed that there was a thin sheet of moss on the right side, dripping with moisture from the morning dew as the smell of dirt filled my nostrils.

"Moss always points to civilization." I said firmly, nodding to myself as if believing my own dicked up logic.

Time to go.

And so I headed right, shoving my hands into my pockets as I romped around the fields and meadows, trying to find my way to a place where I could get myself situated. In a way, I suppose you could say I was on a quest.

A quest to go home.

That's what I wanted to do more than anything. I missed many things about the world I had come from: my bed, my motorcycle, my family, air conditioning, cigarettes...

You get the point.

So immersed in my thoughts, I failed to pay any attention to my where I placed my feet, only noticing something was amiss when my foot snagged on indescribable object, causing me to tumble to the ground and down a rather steep slope.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch!" I shouted, rubbing my ass as I came to an abrupt stop at the bottom.

Why was I always getting hurt? I had never been like this since I arrived here. This world must act on different laws of reality or something.

Yeah...that must be it.

"Oi, you there. Stand up slowly and don't make any sudden movements. You do, and I'll gut ye proper quick."

Oh great, the British are here.

I looked up, only to find the tip of a blade pressed dangerously close to my exposed throat. I swallowed audibly, a bead of sweat forming on my brow as I found myself stuttering.

"L-Look, I don't want any trouble-"

"Shut yer bloody mouth, ye fookin' dunce. I told ye to stand up straight an' be quick 'bout it." Came the nasty reply.

What a charming fellow.

I slowly climbed to my feet, my hands raised as I looked at my captor.

Well, captors, rather.

It appeared they were a group of soldiers, if their armor showed anything. They all wore a variety of helmets, some concealing their face, others not. All of them appeared to be wearing a dark green tabard over chain mail, a golden hand-drawn image of a wood axe displayed vibrantly on each uniform.

"Richard, you bloody idiot. Unhand that man and give him some space." Another voice spoke up, gravely and tinged with experience.

"But, Sire, this mongrel could be a bandit or-" Richard began.

"That's an order."

"Aye, Milord. I'm lettin' 'im go."

Richard unhanded me and backed away, placing an armored hand on the pommel of his sword as he stepped aside for a different face.

This new man carried himself in a confident and upstanding manner. His posture was straight and his chin was raised. A prevalent aura of tenacity surrounded him, enveloping his figure with a vehement sense of dominance and power. Wrinkles formed dark circles around the corners of his eyes, and lightly creased his brow and the sides of his lips. His torso was encased in an iron cuirass, wrapping around his chest in a tight and protective fit. Engraved on the breastplate was a sigil: a religious cross in the form of a sword, the sharp and gilded tip of the blade pointing downwards to the earthen road. Such elegant design did nothing to subtract from the rest of his appearance, however. The olive tunic that peeked out from beneath the armor was a wondrous shade of green, and the hazel sleeves of the linen shirt he wore ended at the forearm; the rest was covered by the polished steel of his gauntlets.

He stared at the me with a dull and lifeless look in his steely grey eyes, his fleshy lips contorting into a slight frown as he took off his barbute. With a sigh he brushed back his brown, graying locks, and quite suddenly, began to speak.

"I do apologize for the behavior of my men. They're all on edge since this is their first time beyond the walls. Bloody rookies, am I right?"

"Yeah, right." I replied, nodding to him.

He merely grunted, and turning back to the group, barked out an order. "You halfwits secure the perimeter! Why're you all bunching up with those stupid looks on your faces? Move!"

And, just like, we were now surrounded by ten iron clad men.

"So, traveler, you've picked a hell of a time to visit Lucio Province."

"I have?" I asked, rubbing my visor free from a few stray flecks of dirt.

"Aye, with all these bloody monster attacks coming from the fields, the farmers are too scared to go out and harvest their crops. Afraid for their wives and children, you see."

I nod again. "That sounds horrible."

The Captain, as I now called him, merely nodded.

"Aye. With all the bloody levies raised up due to the crusade up north, the rest of us have been having a hell of a time defending our own. Manpower is at an all time low."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I must be going..." I chuckled nervously, turning around and beginning to walk away.

"Hold on, wait a moment. You're wearing some interesting attire. Are you a fighter by any chance? Father Bartholomew is looking to hire someone to help us for a little while. Normally I'd protest against this, considering he's using church funds, but I'm desperate. We need another sword, and I know I just met you, but I wouldn't be askin' a stranger if I knew we didn't need the men."

I stopped, and, raising a hand to my chin pondered.

This might be my only chance to get me on my feet. Who knows, I can stand around and look scary. Heh, this'll be easy.

I turned around and walked back to the Captain.

"Alright. I'll help you." I replied, taking my hands out of my pockets.

"Praise the Chief God." He muttered to himself, exhaling as he slapped me on the back. "Alright, follow us back to town. There's a lot you have to learn."

-

It was at this moment I couldn't help but wonder...

Did I just enlist into the Order?  
\---

 

A/N: Yes, he's in Order territory.


	5. 5

A/N: Yeah yeah, I know I missed yesterdays update, so that's why this chapter is a thousand words more than average. 

\-------------

 

The group I was following didn't linger for long before they turned around to make the trip back to town. It was quiet, save for the sounds of rustling leaves and armor that jostled upon the forms of the these iron-clad warriors. Yet, it appeared that while they were steel of body their hearts and minds seemed to have long since rusted. No one spoke, not even Richard, who had been up until this point the most talkative of the bunch. Everyone had this sort gloomy plastered on their faces, with creased brows and flattened lips. And as I liberally held my gaze upon their forms, I could've swore that some of them were trembling.

I turned to the Captain, who was currently walking beside me, his helmet casting a shadow over his eyes as he stared straight ahead.

"Sir," I began, glancing towards him as I spoke. "You said this was their first time outside the walls. What did you exactly mean by that? They aren't equipped like rookies."

"Astute observation, stranger." The Captain replied, his gaze unfaltering. "We have the supplies, of course. We could arm a hundred men with the equipment we have back at Bleakborn."

He finally turned to me, and, with a sigh, continued. "I'll be honest with you. These aren't men at all. Hell, they can hardly be considered boys. What you're looking at are children; young lads who've already experienced conflict firsthand. First it took their fathers and brothers when they came calling for folks for the Northern Crusades. And now, the flames of war hunger for them. It's horrible leaving your family behind to fight in faraway lands. Yet, I find it far more horrifying when the conflict comes knocking on your front gate. To answer your question, stranger..."

He trailed off, looking upwards as the shadows faded from his eyes. "We've been too busy fighting in the streets to leave. All that stands between these beasts and your wives and babes is you and the door. There used to be a thousand people in this town, and now-"

Nearby I could hear a church bell ringing, its heavy resonance washing over the landscape in thick waves as it filled my ears with its low, ominous drone.

The Captain shook his head and stretched an arm in front of him. "We are all that's left."

The sleepy town of Bleakborn came into view as our group trudged over their boots towards the settlement. The entire area was surrounded by a broad and tall series of palisades. It was, for me, a welcome sight, and I shook my head as if expecting that my salvation was but a mere mirage. Yet, my eyes did not deceive me. The straw roofs of huts peaked out from above the massive wall of wooden spikes, with the resting above a massive hill that sloped upward, its strong oak walls and sturdy foundation looming over the small settlement like a stoic warden. And upon the front, were the heraldic banners of some unknown Lord. The evergreen fabric dangled down the walls, and in the center was a golden etching of a single axe.

As we approached the gates, a lone sentinel approached us, and upon seeing me, turned to the Captain.

"Who's this then?"

The Captain smirked and looked towards me.

"He's a mercenary."

"Aye, is that it then? Another vulture seeking to get fat on the rest of our sufferin'? Wouldn't be surprised if he picked the coin from yer lifeless pockets."

"Now, now, he may prove capable yet. Is Father Bartholowmew still in the chapel?"

"That he is, Sire. He's been prayin' an awful lot lately, and that's sayin' much, me thinks, considerin' he's a priest."

The Captain could only laugh. "We all should say a prayer or two. It's going to get darker before it's brighter, as they say."

"As they say, Sire."

"Quite so." The Captain said, turning to us before barking out some order. "Mercenary, follow me! The rest of you, resume your normal duties! We can't afford to be surprised like last time. And for fuck's sake, someone grab a bow and get on those walls!"

I followed him, sliding my visor up before slipping my hands into my pockets.

"So, Captain, where is everyone?" I asked him.

"Inside the keep up to their arse in barricades." He replied. "And don't call me Sir. You aren't subservient to me. The Priest is your employer, so you answer to him. I'm Rowan Athalos, Commander of the Bulwark Guard."

He sniffled.

"Or what's left of it."

I walked with Rowan up the chapel steps, only stopping when he paused at the front door.

"You'll find Father in his quarters near the back. He'll fill you in."

Where are you going?" I asked.

"You see those huge spiky walls erected all over the place?"

I nodded.

"Gotta fix 'em. It turns out that whatever those things are, they can bust them off their foundation rather easily. Massive, those bloody things might be. I bid thee farewell."

Rowan turned on his heel and marched back down the steps, leaving me to my own devices.

\---

If anything, the interior of the chapel was simple. The carpet, a rich velvet, stretched from the entrance to a marble altar that rested in the very front of the main chamber. Soft glimmers of light from the outside pierced the old wooden walls of the structure, bathing the rickety and old pews in sunlight, giving them the faintest illusion that they were glowing, however slight. Stain glass windows, an array of bright colors, were evenly spaced out along the outermost walkways that led to the priest's study, scenes of mighty champions and pious saints etched upon the ornate glass.

I walked down the aisle, reached forward and ran hand across the surface of a nearby pew.

Dust.

"Hello?" I called out, making my in the direction Athalos had told me to move. "Father Bartholomew?"

"Huh? Oh yes, back here my son!" A withered voice called out from the back.

I made way over, taking my helmet off before approaching.

Bartholomew was a humble looking fellow, I noticed. He wore nothing but a hooded robe, a red cross carefully stitched into the sleeves of his garments. A rope was tied around his waist, acting as a simple belt in which he dangled his rosary and holy book.

He appeared to be the kind of man who would never leave home without them.

Turning to me, he pulled down his hood, revealing a bald scalp, wrinkled cheeks, and brown eyes beneath a pair of spectacles.

"Ah, a new face." He began, chuckling as he extended his hand. "It is a bright thing to see in such a dark time. I'm assuming Rowan let you inside? He's the only one with the key, afterall."

"That he did, Father." I answered him, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. "He tells me you were looking for someone to help with your current situation."

"You are correct, my child. With what little money I scrounged out from the donation box, I asked the Captain to find someone who looked capable for the job I had in mind. He was very hesitant, but did so anyway, bless his heart."

The Priest said solemnly, casting his gaze downward before continuing.

"The townspeople are beginning to give up hope. They've even stopped coming to celebrate mass, my goodness."

He shook his head.

"It is a poor shepherd who cannot tend to his flock, Traveler. Ever since those demons showed up a month ago, things have only been getting worse. We used to have a thousand people in this bless'd town. Now it's only a handful of women and children, with the rest of the men taking up arms in the Northern Wars. Only boys remain to defend their home. Poor, poor boys. Some of them cant even fit into their armor, with how young some of them are."

He wiped a tear from his eye. "We've lost too many already. I don't want the young to throw away everything to defend the old. It's just not right."

I placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently as I spoke. "I'll help in anyway I can. To be honest, Father, I'm no warrior. I'm fit and I can run fast, but I've never picked up a sword in my life."

Father Bartholomew could only nod his head sadly. "I suspected as much. You are armored but unarmed, and your lack of equipment shows. I can only assume Captain Athalos picked you up since you were the first outsider he saw in a very long time. There will be no ill feeling toward you should you wish to leave."

"I'd said I'd help." I replied, my voice tinged with false confidence. "Just tell me what to do."

"If you insist, my boy, if you insist." Bartholomew answered, gesturing for me to take a seat in a nearby pew.

Upon doing so, he sat next to me, and told me flatly.

"When night falls, all the remaining guards in the town relocate to defend the keep with the rest of the remaining citizens. The rest of the town is left to the elements, since it's too much ground to protect with such few men. As a result, we don't actually have enough information on -what- is exactly attacking us."

"W-What do you mean?" I stammered, "I thought monsters were attacking this place."

"We assumed as much. But there is no blood, no bodies, it's as if they were just spirited away. Everyone is terrified to even go outside lest something grab them."

"And you want me to spend the night outside and watch the town to see if I see anything." I assumed.

"Will you?" Bartholomew asked. He sounded unsure, as he probably knew he was asking something highly dangerous; too much of me.

Yet, I'm a man of my word. When I say something, I mean it.

Well, minus the little fib I told Diana. I'm sure she's gotten over it by now. It didn't matter, I wouldn't see her again.

"Alright, Father." I said with a sigh, standing from the pew and clenching my fists. "I'll do it."

Bartholomew looked up at me, his eyes wet as he removed his glasses. He stood up, and wrapping his arms around me, let out a muffled sob into my chest as he lept up and kissed my cheeks.

"Oh, bless you, son. Bless you!"

I wrapped an arm around the tiny old man, giving him a reassuring pat on the back as I felt my heart thud heavily within my chest.

Did I have a death wish or something? Never would have I agreed to this if someone wanted me to risk my life in the real world. Hell, I'd probably punch them for even suggesting so. But, seeing as I was getting paid...well, I had to start somewhere.

"I'm going to need some supplies for this." I told the Priest, gesturing to myself and patting my pockets. "I don't exactly have much in terms of weaponry or protection."

Bartholomew took a step back, looking at me up and down before nodding.

"You remind me a lot of myself in my younger days. It was a long time ago; an age where dutiful men possessed valiant hearts. We all made a vow to remain strong and protect the weak, the meagre, the innocent, and the young."

He looked at me gesturing me to follow him.

We walked side by side towards a corner in the chapel in which the wall appeared to diverge into a narrow crevice.

The Old man raised up his hand, placing a hand against the wall, chanted inaudibly underneath his breath, his tone hushed, lower than even a whisper.

Suddenly, his hand began to glow, sapphire sparks flickering off his hand as he pulled a loose stone from the wall, resting it down on the ground and taking a step back.

The stone began to crackle and fizz, contort and merge between reality and the unknown, it twisted into some indescribable shape, glowing a searing amber as it finally took it's ultimate form.

It was a chest.

"I sure as hell didn't keep those very vows with rosaries and scrolls." Bartholomew chuckled, reaching down and unlatching the box. Flipping open the cover and revealing...

A gauntlet.

"That's just a glove." I said flatly, trying hard to hide my disappointment.

He glared at me, shaking his head before muttering under his breath.

"It's not just a glove, you fool."

He rose, and with a single flick of his hands, levitated the piece of armor over to me.

"Put it on, my son."

I nodded, taking off my old biking glove before tossing it to the floor. I reached out, grasping it gingerly before slipping it over my wrist to the point where it engulfed my hand.

"It's kinda tight." I chuckled, giving my hand an experimental squeeze. "Forgive me, but I don't see how this is supposed to-"

The palm of my hand suddenly exploded with pain. Something inside the gauntlet seemed to leap up and impale my wrist, digging deep inside and causing my blood to seep out of my limb, dripping from the crevices in the glove onto the faded wood of the chapel floor.

"Don't fight it, my son! Breathe slowly!" Bartholomew shouted, running forward and grasping my wrist.

"What did you do to me, you old bastard?" I growled through gritted teeth, falling to my knees and clutching my wrist as tears threatened to pool down my eyes.

"The Order has always demanded sacrifice, child. The shedding of blood is unavoidable. It is a noble cause to spill one's life out for his fellow man. We fall and stumble along the way in our quest for peace, but like an angel, we unfurl our wings and fly."

I starred in quiet horror as the blood from my wrist started to travel upwards towards the back of my hand, sliding underneath the armor and beginning to form the start of some bloodied sigil. The polished steel of the gauntlet seemed to pulse as my blood seeped within grooves, traveling slowly down to my fingers as it finally ended the second joint of my digits.

My hand fell limp at the wrist, and soon the glimmer faded.

"I apologize, Traveler." Bartholomew told me, "But I didn't see any other way."

I looked at the glove, my eyes widening as turned my hand upside down. The gauntlet formed a sigil of a fucking human skull!

I didn't want this! I never should have agreed to this! Why did I trust so easily?

With my other hand, I reached towards my wrist attempting to pry the piece of armor from my hand.

"It's no use, my son." Bartholomew shook his head sadly. "The Gauntlet of the Inquisition has chosen you."

"You motherfucker..." I hissed. "What were you?"

"As I said, I am but a humble priest."He replied, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Long ago, I was an Inquisitor for the Order. With that gauntlet, we were capable of horrific things, terrible things. Our own blood, our very essence channeled into that piece and it judged both man and monster. Not with spirit energy, not with magic, but something unknown even to us. They stopped using those long ago, as they seemed to defy the Gods themselves."

"I don't want it." I shirked away from his touch, inhaling deeply as I struggled not to reach out strangle him.

The Priest shook his head.

"No, my son. It wanted you."

\---

 

A/N: Fun fact. Did you guys know that according to MGE lore, that deep within the sea are Lovecraftian horrors which remain unaffected by the Demon Lord's magic. Imagine what sort of dastardly stuff they can do should they get released, ha ha!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Short, I know. But I'm tweaking things a little while I figure out how to plot this just right. Enjoy fellas :) 

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I should've seen it coming. Given the insidious nature of this world, it's a wonder why I hadn't been stabbed in the back yet. I remember reading the lore books, thinking how this place seemed full of doom and gloom, despite the sexy monster babes.

But now that I'm here, actually living it?

Hell, it's worse than I thought.

Night came quickly enough, and I found myself sitting upon an overturned cart, watching as the sun dipped below the palisades as night began to settle.

"Damn," I muttered to myself, staring down at my new right hand. "Time flies when you're tricked by some creepy old bastard."

I couldn't help but notice how the freakin' thing seemed to just stare at me, mocking me like someone who had just gotten what they wanted.

"Fuckin' priest..." I growled, shaking my head as I shifted my gaze down the rows of vacant houses and litter-ridden streets.

"And now I'm being used as bait. That's fine, I'm defintely okay with this." I shoved myself off the cart, making my over to the middle of the street as I heard distant shouting near the keep.

"They must be trying to fortify their position for the night. Shit, it must be bad. Why am I still helping these people again?"

I don't recall talking to myself this much, but ever since I got this glove, I just couldn't shut my mouth.

Eventually, all was quiet.

The town was immersed in a lifeless, sable haze, with not a single torch to cast light through the night. And the keep too, as full as it was, faded into the dark.

"This is some Silent Hill bullshit, right here." I mumbled, raising my gauntlet as I heard rustling near the gate.

I clenched my armored fist.

How was this supposed to be a weapon again?

My hand began to throb. I raised it to my face, my eyes narrowing as the skull sigil on the front began to pulse and flicker a deep red through the darkness.

"What the..." I trailed off, another noise from the gate causing me to snap my attention forward, my entire body tensing with anticipation as I balled my hand into a fist.

Shit, what was I going to do? I didn't know how to fight. I wasn't a warrior. Hell, I thought I was just going to stay in a corner and observe what happened in the town during the night.

So, why did I suddenly decide it was a good idea to stand in the middle of the road? God, I'm a fucking moron.

My hand pulsed once more, seemingly more intense than before.

It did so again.

And again.

Then, it abruptly stopped.

I allowed myself to relax, exhaling softly as wiped the sweat from my forehead.

"Heh, this anxiety is killing me."

A snap, followed by the strongest gust of wind I've ever felt.

I ducked down, narrowly avoiding decapitation as a broadsword swung in a wide arch directly over my head.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck!" I screamed, turning around and jumping back, barely escaping becoming a shishkebab on yet another sword.

Backing away, I faced my attackers, glaring at them as I felt an icy sensation deep within my chest.

I could die.

I could really die.

\---

Spoiler: I would have to fight for my life.

Before me were a trio of figures, staring at me silently, wordlessly. They didn't move an inch. With each heave of their chest, a rustling noise, muffled and bristling, resonated deep inside. They were encased in armor from head to toe, not an inch of skin showing as they proceeded towards me. The pale moonlight reflected off their chest-pieces, revealing an emblem of some leafless tree engraved on the front. Each wore a thick titian surcoat which parted at the chest, the garments dragging across their forms, almost scraping on the cobblestone of the town's floor.

Slowly, they raised their weapons.

Sword and shield.

Halberd.

Flail.

In my fear, I froze, cold sweat trickling past my brow and sliding past my paling cheeks. My mouth felt uncomfortably dry, with my eyes beginning to sting as began to shake. A lump began to build up in my throat, and it took everything I had to not vomit right there and then.

Staring in silent horror, I watched as the one with the halberd swung down, bringing it down right towards my skull, aiming to split it in two.

This was it.

I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, waiting for death to take me.

\----

Death never came.

Through no will of my own, my gauntlet roared to life as the eyes on the skull flared crimson. My arm reached up, the blade slamming against my armored palm. My fingers clenched firmly, causing the metal axe to promptly shatter as I pulled back. I found myself wrenching the pole-arm free from the knight's grasp, kicking them away before I hurled it like a javelin towards them.

It soared through the air, whizzing loudly before the spear end buried itself in their cuirass, promptly causing them to crumple to the ground.

Pain wracked through my wrist as the shield-bearer came forth, thrusting forward in a forceful attempt to rip its blade through my throat. I brought my hands to my face, the sound of metal on metal entering my ears I stood there dumbfounded at my newly found combative prowess.

In my grasp, was a sword, scarlet red. It deftly blocked my attacker's blade, before urging me forward. I obliged, shoving my body against them. They stumbled back and I found myself leaning forward as the one with the flail swung towards my back.

It missed, and promptly knocked the head off of Mr. Shield.

The blade in my hand withered before turning into a splash of blood against my hand, drenching my fist in cochineal fluid.

I turned around and roared.

The gauntlet smashed against their breastplate, the sound of tearing metal filling my ears followed by a sickening crunch.

When the haze left my mind, I found myself elbow deep in the flailed one's chest.

They were limp as they hung off of my appendage. My skull was pounding, and I could feel warm blood trickling from my wrist, seeping from underneath the gauntlet, steadily dripping on the floor in bright red droplets.

I dislodged the corpse from my arm, letting the body crumple to the ground as I stared all around me.

To my shock and subsequent horror, I found that I had been the only one bleeding. Three empty suits of armor were on the floor, a pile of leaves spilling from the crevices of their armor, flapping limply in the wind as the breeze soon carried them off.

My stomach was on fire.

My skin was deathly pale.

A cold sheet of sweat covered me.

I threw up some vicorous black fluid, my eyes rolling back in my skull as I fell forward.

The last thing I saw that night, was the skull on my gauntlet, staring back at me with hollow eyes.

It laughed.  
\---------------

A/N: Predictable, perhaps, but it's my first time writing a fight scene. Please be gentle :p


	7. Chapter 7

Gettin' back into lads. Enjoy!

\---------------------------

 

At first I decided to brush it off as mere coincidence, but now I couldn't any longer.

I kept blacking out every few hours.

I didn't know why, nor did I particularly care.

But now it was just getting pretty fucking ridiculous.

I didn't know how long I had been out when my eyes first cracked open. However, I knew the answer as soon as I sat up.

It was still dark out, pale moonlight washing over the torch-lit cobblestone road of the town as I blinked away the stinging pain from my eyes. I lifted up my visor, groaned, and shakily got to my feet.

Looking around, I remembered what had happened.

Whatever freaky voodoo magic this glove was infused with had saved my life. If I recalled correctly, I was beset upon three suits of armor. A brief glance, and there they were, sprawled out on the ground in various states of disarray. A dent here, a smash there, I had fucked them up good.

Well, the glove did. I had just been along for the ride. And boy, did I sure as hell want to get off of it.

I approached a one of them, soon identifying it had been the one I impaled on my arm a few moments earlier. Taking a knee, I clenched my aching hand, reached into the chest cavity of the thing, and pulled out...a bunch of leaves?

Quite peculiar.

Upon analyzing further, I realized that all of these suits of armor were filled with the same exact thing.

How did that even work? I chalked it up to magic, but it was strange. I thought all things that weren't humans would be monsters. Well, save for the occasional farm animal and bird, I suppose. Plus, there was the whole guide on the demon realm creatures but that was a completely different thing entirely. Not like it would have mattered anyway, considering I only really looked at the pretty pictures on the profiles.

I shook my head, undoing the sword belt on the body and relieving it of its weapon.

If the glove fucked me up when I used it, then I had to take all precautions so it wouldn't have to come to that.

Standing up, I fasted the belt around my waist, bending down and picking up the sword before sheathing it.

I didn't know much about swords. Hell, besides Skallagrim and Hollywood, I'd say about fuck all, really.

"On a different topic," I muttered, "Bartholomew is going to have to answer a few questions."

\---  
I stood at the foot of the staircase that led up to the Keep.

There was an asinine amount of stairs to climb and damn, if I wasn't already exhausted. The adreneline from almost dying provided a nice boost, of course, but that feeling had long since passed. Now, I felt like death.

\---

Long story short, I climbed the stairs.

In front of me was yet another gate. Typical of Motte and Bailey type castles, I supposed. Still, I needed access to the keep.

Extending my hand, I rapped on the door, before yelling at the top of my lungs.

"Open the gate! It's me, the mercenary!"

I paused, and was greeted with silence.

Extending my arm, I motioned it forward to knock again, when an unfamiliar grinding sound of metal upon wood had me looking upwards.

A guard was pointing a crossbow at me, the tips of their fingers lightly brushing against the firing lever. A shadow was cast over their eyes by the kettlehelm they wore, their lips contorted into a snarl as they inquired through gritted teeth.

"What's the secret word, sell-sword?"

I blinked. "Are you serious?"

"You think I'm sitting up here having a giggle, mate?" He replied, his grip tightening on his weapon.

"Bartholomew never told me anything about a secret word." I replied firmly, 'But still, I must see him."

"Oh aye, and what's to say you actually aren't some doppleganger looking to trick me to get in here and turn everyone into monsters?"

I sighed. "Look, I've had a very long day. Just open the fucking gate."

"A-ha!" He exclaimed, firing a bolt at me. "I knew it! Now you die, vermin!"

Oh shit, this fucker just shot at me! I'm dead!

Suddenly, my armored hand sprung to life, and, through no will of my own, snatched the bolt from midair, the point only a few inches from my face.

"Get. Me. Bartholomew. Now." I growled.

"F-Father ain't here." The guard stammered, taking a step back. "He's in the church like always, prayin' ya see. That's all he does now. He refuses to enter the keep. I don't know why m'self. L-Look, we're honest people here. Don't bust in and kill us all, Monster. We just want to be left alone!"

I exhaled loudly, shaking my head and tossing the bolt to the floor. I turned around, beginning to climb back down the steps

"I told you, I'm not a monster." I said over my shoulder.

"Then what are you?" He called after me.

"I'm not from here." I replied, unclenching my fist. "Just a helping hand. That's all you need to worry about."

\---  
Instantly I knew something was amiss. The doors of the Church were wide open, as if something had smashed through them with brute force. Shards of wood lay fragmented underneath the archway, which was now dilapidated and jagged by means unknown.

I unsheathed my sword, and, with a shaky breath, stepped inside.

The interior of the chapel was not as it once was. Gentle beams of moonlight from the outside pierced the old wooden walls of the structure, enveloping the flipped over pews in a pale gloom. The stained glass windows, once an array of bright colors, were now smashed, shards of glass littering the once seamless velvet carpet along the outermost walkways that led to the priest's study.

"Father, are you here?" I called out, my voice echoing off the walls and filling my ears with the reverb of my own voice.

No response.

A bloodcurdling scream rang out from the study, my heart leaping up into my chest as I all but sprinted towards his office.

 

The priest's study was in ruins; a desk was overturned, papers and books littering the floor as a shattered inkwell leaked from a drawer and pooled onto the floor in thick black stream. The wall that once supposedly had a torch fastend to it now had a basketball sized hole in it, the iron fixtures busted as half of the study was now ablaze.

Bartholomew came flying through the smoke and fire, his body smashing against the outermost wall before bursting into a pile of orange and amber leaves.

"Jesus Christ!" I screamed, ducking as the entire desk followed soon after, bursting into a ball of flames as it torched the old pews it smashed into, rolling as it finally slammed into the marble altar, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces.

"I am the vanguard of your destruction." A voice, metallic and booming, stated through the rising smoke, growing nearer as it approached me from the now blazing office.

Thunderous footsteps followed it, and when it finally appeared, I couldn't help but think that I should immediately cancel the job.

It was a ten foot tall suit of armor, two sapphire dots burning brightly beneath the visor of it's helmet. It pointed to me with a war hammer almost as large as it was. And, with a fearsome roar, it charged.


	8. Chapter 8

Here you go you fellas. All done. 

\----------

I felt fear.

A myriad of blatant and primal feelings surged through in my gut and screamed at me to run. And, to be frank with myself, I couldn't help but desperately oblige such urges.

This wasn't worth it. I didn't do this out of selflessness or good will. Hell, I didn't even want to fucking help these people. No, I let my character get the best of me. I was tired of being such a goddamn pushover all the time. I'd made it a habit of doing what I was told. This wasn't because I was concerned about the consequences of my actions or the perception people would have of me if I didn't. Rather, it was the cold hard truth of the matter that I simply could not say no.

I just couldn't. I never knew why, nor did I believe that I ever would. But now that my life was on the line, assisting a group that threatened me, tried to kill me, putting me in harms way-

Shit, fuck this. I was going to get the hell out of here, women and children be damned.

I rolled out of the way, grunting in pain as my elbow banged against the jutting end of a nearby broken pew.

I was not a nimble man.

The hammer came crashing down into the floor of the chapel, dust and debris crunching and shattering with sharp crackles and heavy thuds. Splinters of wood and shards of stone rained down upon me, smacking against my jacket roughly and causing me to grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I roared, slamming my fist into my leg as my entire body shook.

I refused to die! Not here! Not now!

Clambering to my feet, I tightened my grip around my sword, turning abruptly on my heel and sprinting out the fractured double doors of the building.

"Such cowardice. I expected more. Much more." It's voice boomed behind me, breaking out into a dark chuckle that faded out into the night.

Jumping and leaping, I all but stumbled my way down the stone steps of the church, the muscles of my legs burning and twitching painfully. It had been a while since I last exercised them so vigorously. However, escaping life or death situations tended to make one not give a single fuck.

I sprinted past dimly lit houses and down empty streets in my haste to escape, my breath hot and heavy inside my helmet as the exhalations made my visor fog up.

Then, without warning, I stopped running. My legs went limp underneath me and I tumbled to the ground.

Distant screams drifted upon the evening wind, and I couldn't help but glance behind my shoulder as the sound of distant shouting followed soon after.

I lifted up the faceshield of my helmet, my eyes widening in horror as I saw the behemoth saunter slowly up the steps of the keep. Crossbow bolts and arrows pinged off of it harmlessly, glancing its armor before impaling itself uselessly into the ground.

And so the monster kept coming, trudging up the mountain of a hill effortlessly as it approached the gates. Raising its massive hammer, it swung through the air in a wide arc, smashing through the gate easily before kicking it open altogether. It charged inside; the screaming got louder.

I closed my eyes, clutching my head as I listened.

"I'm sorry!" I bit my lip, digging my fingers into the crevices of the cobblestone road. "I'm so fucking sorry!"

I was a coward. But, I didn't know what I was doing! I didn't know how to help these people! I bit of more than I could chew, and now I was paying the price.

How could I hope to defend someone if I couldn't even defend myself?

My hand began to throb, and upon looking down, I saw that the skull on the gauntlet was glowing once again. There was a sharp pain in my wrist, as if someone had pricked it with a needle and decided to push it deeper into my flesh. The skull began to flicker and pulse deeper and darker shades of red, before flickering and waning into a lighter shade of white. I was filled with an overpowering sense of disappointment and disgust. Yet, something else was intermingled with these bitter feelings.

Fury.

However, it was different. This wasn’t merely uncontrolled anger or unbridled rage, and I didn’t feel the warm blood of ire nor the icy chill of indifference wash over me.

It was as if my mind dipped itself into a placid pool of liquid numbness, halting my uncontrollable train of thought and vacating within it all feelings of regret, fear, and hesitation.

 

I felt my frantic heartbeat simmer down into a light thudding in my chest, and I found my breath returning to me in short, brisk intervals. With every inhalation, I felt increasingly calm, this newfound sense of serenity allowing me to compose myself and turn my attention to more critical matters.

Surreal as it may be, I never expected to have such a phlegmatic disposition amidst the ongoing chaos all around me. Along with it, came an urge so strongly felt that I was all but compelled to carry it out.

Such curiosity I found myself possessing, it felt as if my body was not my own.

I felt my hand tightening, and upon looking towards my side I realized that my armored hand had been unconsciously twirling my sword through through my fingers.

I was no swordsman, and I would’ve found myself perturbed at this revelation, but I was no longer in control.

Closing my eyes, I felt my other hand reach up towards my face, lowering my visor as my legs took off beneath me through no volition of my own.

And then I was running.

Only this time I wasn’t fleeing with my tail tucked between my legs.

I felt as if I had found a purpose, this sprinting into the arms of danger and greeting it as if one would a long lost lover or an old friend.

This had numerous implications, no doubt, and I decided to discover them myself later. Such was the strangeness and peculiar manner in which I found the resolve to charge back into the fray.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed shadowy figures and forms that had been, before, dwelling in the dark corners and alleyways of Bleakborn sally forth to meet me.

More of these hollow forms, these leaf-filled soldiers and armored beings stood resolute against me silently stoic and stoically silent. A multitude of weapons and instruments of death they possessed, held in their unnatural grasp and poised to strike the moment I got close. Their armored forms creaked noisily in the howling wind, their bodies a motionless choir that sang amongst the orchestra of the rustling forest surrounding the settlement. The light of the stars cast glistening shades upon their armor, their sigil of a dead tree striking out in dark contrast underneath the pale moon.

I was afraid, but felt no fear.

I was unskilled, yet my prowess felt unsurpassable.

I was exhausted, and here I was sprinting ceaselessly back into the night.

I opened my mouth to scream, and here I roared.

My arm shot outwards, grabbing the closest hostile towards me as my blade followed, plunging into the chestplate of the thing as the amber light of its eyes burnt out into oblivion. A quick overarching swing to my left lopped the heads off of three more.

This was definitely different from my previous fight. I felt no strain upon my body, not a single ache nor burn resonated within me. It was as if I could anything, as if this was something I was born to do. Fighting, it seemed, had suddenly come natural to me. Despite my inexperience with swords and melee combat in general, it was as if I trained with the best. Of course, the reality of it couldn’t be further from the truth. And indeed, my strength, to me, had jarringly become supernatural. And, seeing as I just cleaved through solid steel plate with nothing but a sword, it all but proved the previous notion.

Dodging, dipping, diving, ducking, I avoided the reach of their arms and returned the favor in kind. Leaves were flying every which way, parts of armor shattering off the soldiers fracturing forms as helmets, gauntlets, and greaves parted and became undone in a whirlwind of violence.

I found myself grinning from ear to ear, tackling another warrior and wrestling myself on top of them, raising the sword above my head as I brought the pommel down upon its casque. It crumpled like a cheap aluminum can underneath the hilt, my arm swinging downward and smashing it again and again.

“Eat it, you son of a bitch! You motherfucking fuck! Fuck you! Die, die, die!” I roared, my eyes burning as I felt spit and dribble rolling out the sides of my mouth.

The armor twitched briefly, before ceasing its movements altogether and going limp underneath me.

With a grunt, I climbed off of the body and made my way towards the keep.

I never felt this way before. This desire to maim and burn and destroy. I wasn’t sure if I liked it; it didn’t feel right. However, if I was being honest with myself, I can’t say that I didn’t completely loathe it, either. I felt my lips contorting into a snarl and I shook my head in disgust.

“You big lugging fuck, I’m gonna tear you apart for killing my paycheck.” My voice tore through my throat, guttural and primal as it was.

That wasn’t my voice. I didn’t sound like that. This wasn’t...this wasn’t me.

“Fuckin’ stupid thoughts, man. No time for that. There’s a big boy up there. Gotta kill ‘im.” I growled, shaking my head.

Indeed. I had to kill it.

\---

 

I all but sprinted up the steps, my heart pounding in my chest as I could sense the blood pumping throughout my veins and arteries, the sound resonating in my skull and pounding my brain with deep resounding bursts. The world became muffled all around me, the heavy thuds of my boots upon the earth sending small quakes up my ankles and throughout my body. Sweat dripped from my brow before accumulating in a small stream of perspiration that nestled upon my upper lip. Every exhalation sent flecks of sweat spattering against my visor, and I grew hot wearing the thing for so long. If it wasn’t for whatever was sloshing around inside me, I dare say that I might’ve hyperventilated and collapsed of overheating.

The sounds of fighting grew nearer the higher I climbed. And before long it hit me; the stench of smoke and blood wafted from the broken gates. I could hear the muffled cries of pain, the dying screams of men as they were run through by the steel titan. The resonating twangs of bows releasing their payload upon the creature filled the air, and already I could imagine the carnage that must have been going on inside.

When I finally managed to reach the archway, I took a moment to assess the current situation.

The Keep had not yet been breached, the armored giant opting instead to butcher the entirety of the guard.

“What the hell is that thing?” One of them shouted, backing away as they shakily raised their sword in what appeared to be a desperate attempt to steel themselves.

“I don’t know!” Another guard hollered, rushing forward and thrusting their blade into one of the gaps in the thing’s armor. “Just keep hitting the damn-”

They were interrupted as the hammer slammed into them, their body sent flying with their limbs sprawled out. Such was the brutality of the blow, they were sent careening towards the top of the wall, crying out in shock as they found themselves impaled on one of the damaged palisades. The guard choked back some pathetic moan, blood spurting from their mouth as they finally laid limp, drooping over the barricade as a steady stream of blood trickled down and pooled into the dirt below.

And so it continued to kill and slaughter, chunks of flesh rendered from bodies, bones fracturing and splintering underneath each and every mighty blow. A head rolled towards me, it’s countenance stuck in a silent scream as I knelt down and picked it up.

It was Richard. Well, all that was left of him, anyway.

I released a drawn out breath I didn’t know I had been holding in, dropping the ex-guard’s head to the floor before swallowing the growing lump in my throat.

Was I scared?

Of course, I was down right terrified. This foe was abnormally strong, gigantic, able to crush a man’s head in the palm of its hands. What did I have? Nothing, when it came down to it. The glove took control and I was just taken along for the ride. Hell, I was a scared little boy when it came down to it. All this gore and viscera made me sick to my stomach. It was nothing like the movies, hunting, or anything in between. Watching a man die was the most horrifying thing I had ever beheld, and although I wished to never see it again, I just knew that while I was here, that just wouldn’t be possible.

“Mercenary, is that you!” A voice amidst the battle called out.

I blinked.

Athalos?

I turned, to the person who spoke, watching as they rolled out of the way of the descending hammer before pointing to me.

“Aye, indeed it is!” He ducked, dust kicking up underneath him as the bludgeon narrowly missed his head. “We’re being overrun! Where’s Father?”

“He’s dead!” I hollered, raising my sword. “That thing killed him!”

The Captain paused, looking at me with his mouth agape, as if trying to say something before ultimately failing. He blinked and leaned back, deftly avoiding becoming strawberry jam like so many others had before him. “Our weapons aren’t doing anything to this beast! I’ve never seen anything like it before!”

“Weak little bits of meat and bone, your pathetic village is going to burn to the ground.” It growled lowly, picking up a sentry that had strayed to close. “Right after I kill you all!”

With a heave, it tossed the man like a ragdoll that went sailing through the air, smashing into the stony side of the Keep with a sickening squelch, a crimson splatter plastered on the wall as the corpse slid down.

“Mercenary!” Athalos roared, “Don’t just stand there! Help us!”

I stared at him, unsure of what to do. If normal weapons couldn’t bring this beast down, then what could?

In the face of evil, I stood frozen.

My sword fell from my grip, clattering upon the earth as I looked up. Once more, my hand began to ache, and I felt my wrist slicing open as the warm blood from my body began to leak out from the crevices of the gauntlet. It swirled and contorted, lengthening and contracting all at once. With a flash and glimmer, it bubbled and pulsed, stretching into the form of some scarlet spear. It was light and short, and I found it to be easily lifted.

I held it in my grasp, narrowing my eyes as my entire body began to burn. And in my mind, I heard a noise, dark and full of wrath vociferate in my mind.

Throw it.

I heaved it, the weapon sailing through the air before embedding itself into the right pauldron of the oversized armor.

“RAGH!” It roared incoherently, blue wisps of smoke escaping from the hole that had perforated its armor. “You cunt! You miserable wretch! I will grind your bones into dust and relieve you of your entrails!”

It swatted Athalos aside, sending him tumbling to the ground before it dashed towards me in heavy bounds. I formed another, and another, hurling bloody javelins at the beast ceaselessly as it approached. Despite stumbling with every impact, there was no stopping it. My bloody projectiles had long since turned back into slush, my own blood leaking from the dents and shredded spots in its armor. Soon it was upon me, sending a massive steel-clad right hook towards my head in its eagerness to kill me.

I leaned back too late, the edge of the metal giant’s knuckles nicking my visor as shards of plastic and glass shattered directly into my face. I raised my fist in an effort to hit the titan, my efforts fruitless as he smacked it away and hoisted me up by my throat.

“I want to stare into your eyes as I crush the life out of you.” The Colossus chuckled, bringing me close its visor, its blue orbs burning brightly as it seemingly stared into my very being.

“W-What?” It stuttered, the grip it had around my throat tightening. I gurgled and choked, feeling my face beginning to grow purple as I desperately started to kick it. “Your soul is gone, abomination.” 

“Fuck...you.” I rasped, giving it another pitiful kick if for no other reason than to show my defiance.

This was it. I was going to die here in a world that wasn’t my own. I would never get back home, see my family again, feel the wind upon my face riding down the highway. Never have the opportunity to find a woman, settle down and have kids with. I’d never get that college diploma, I wasted my future.

Shit, I didn’t want to die with regrets. My eyes watered as the world around me began to fade away and grow dim.

Perhaps I could’ve changed things in another life.

But not this one.

Without warning, a long coil of serrated blades lashed out and wrapped around the arm that had been hoisting me, a loud groan of failing metal ringing out into the skies as it was promptly ripped off from rest of the giant armor’s body.

“GRAHH!” It roared, a guttural, metallic ferocity hitched within its tone of voice as it held the stump where its arm was, orange and amber leaves pouring out of the gap and wildly fluttering into the wind as a breeze seemingly picked up all around us.

I pried the disembodied hand from my neck, wrenching the fingers from my throat and tossing it to the side. Flipping over on to my stomach, I tore off my helmet, gasping for air as I began to retch.

“I will not be defeated! Not here! Prepare yourselves for your inevitable death-” 

The whip slashed forth again, this time swaddling the titan’s neck in a scarf of knives, and was once again pulled back. A deafening screech pierced the air, causing me to cover my ears and scootch away from the thing when it finally came toppling down. The metal of it’s armor creaked and groaned, the internal structure of it failing as the thing now laid decapitated. The head rolled uselessly off its shoulders, falling into the dirt with a heavy thud as a mix of sapphire flames and leaves spewed forth from vacant position between the pauldrons.

Finally, it was over. It collapsed with a resounding thump, its lifeless form now enveloped half way in the courtyard’s sand as silence drifted all along the keep.

A series of audible clicks and whirring caused me to shift my gaze upwards, and there I saw my savior.

Dark robes, wide brimmed hat, a beaked alabaster mask...

Ciro.

The whip shifted and crumpled, contorting and solidifying into a single solid piece within his grasp. The good doctor flicked his wrist, and with a final snap, his whip had turned into but a mere walking cane. It was then that I noticed something else about the him, he was wearing something that I hadn’t seen before.

Dangling loosely from his scarf-covered neck was a thin necklace intertwined with cord and tiny jewels. It roped around to the simple wooden sigil in the form of…

The Order’s Cross…

I looked up at him, and he looked down at me. Resting his cane upon his lap, he squatted down, gently rubbing a thumb across the gash in my cheek before nodding slowly.

“You’ve made quite the mess of yourself, young man.”

 

\------------------

Jeeze, this took forever to write XD


	9. 9 (You get the point)

Back to short and sweet :D

\---

 

I awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the gentle clattering of hooves along with creaking wheels of a horse drawn cart. My body swayed from side to side, jostling up and down as I sat up with a groan. A quick glance to the side revealed my location. Grassy knolls and emerald meadows dotted with daisies and dandelions spanned out all along the horizon, the morning sun peeking above the speckled hilltops and bringing with it the fresh breath of newborn day.

My head throbbed and I found myself roughly rubbing my face before searching around the back of the cart for my helmet.

“Don’t touch your face, you will tear the stitches.”

I recognized the voice immediately, and with it, all the memories of the previous night came flooding back.

“Ciro,” I began, my voice hoarse and raspy. “What’s going on? Why are you here? Where...what happened?”

I smacked my lips. Boy, was I goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t speak. Your body has suffered quite a bit of trauma in the past few days. Removing that glove was no easy task.” Ciro replied curtly, his eyes never leaving the road as he rummaged through a black bag he kept beside him. He withdrew a small glass vial of some milky white substance, tossing it towards me and nodding.

“Drink it. It will help the healing process.”

“What is it?” I replied uncorking the vial and giving it an experimental whiff. It smelled sweet and rather delicious, if I was being honest with myself. The closest thing I could relate it to would be eggnog sprinkled with a pinch of cinnamon and vanilla.

“Just drink it. It’s best to ingest it all in one go.” Ciro continued, noticing my hesitation.

I shrugged, raising the vial to my lips and, downing it like a shot, was quick to swallow it. Smacking my lips, I glanced at the container again, resting it down next to me as I leaned back against the cart.

It was tasted a lot like a Masala chai, only with a far thicker and creamier texture.

“It’s holstaur milk.”

Oh god.

I placed a hand over my mouth, leaning over the side of the cart before beginning to furiously spit on the earthen road beneath me.

The fact that I had drank some monstrous breast milk did not provide me any comfort. I was going to turn into a monster! I was screwed!

Ciro, being the astute observationist that he was, realized that I was having a mini freakout.

“Such a small quantity of milk will not cause you to lose your mind, young man. On the contrary, it provides vitality and stamina should one drink it responsibly. Just don’t sip on it if you should be the fairer sex.” He chuckled, crossing his legs adjusted the reigns in his grasp. “But now on to more pressing matters. I’m sure you have many questions.”

“Yeah,” I grunted, gritting my teeth as I returned to my original position on the wagon. “I have a bunch of them.”

Ciro motioned for me to continue, the glossy black rimmed goggles of his mask turning to me as his gaze left the weathered path.

“Bleakborn, Athalos, those people...what happened to them?”

“The town is safe, for the time being. Shortly after you passed out, I spent the rest of the night talking with the Captain of the Guard about what happened. From what he had told me, he found you wandering the roads by yourself and decided that you were fit for the predicament they were going through. I must say, if that was your handiwork on the streets, then I am rather impressed by the carnage you caused to those unholy things.”

He paused, placing a gloved hand underneath his chin.

“However, that is not the case, isn’t it?” He inquired, and I dipped my head low. “I suspected as much, but to think you managed to find such a peculiar artifact, well, that’s quite impressive in itself.”

“How’d you remove it?” I asked rubbing my hand. It burned, painfully so. Yet I couldn’t help but notice that the punctures and lacerations on my hand formed some sort of symbol. An upside down letter ‘A’, perhaps?

“It was simple enough,” Ciro replied. “There was a small switch on the back that I had to dig out of your skin. Even so, I had to pull thin strands of tubing from your wrist; minuscule threads that appeared to have been intertwined with your veins.”

I winced, flexing my hand. “How long have you been following me?”

“As of now? Two days. I noticed that you had thrown away the map I had so courteously made for you. And I should know, considering I saw you leave with it-”

“I know, I couldn’t read your handwriting. Didn’t understand it at all, so I got frustrated.” I started, quickly silencing as the Doctor raised a finger in the air.

“Hush, I’m not done speaking. You were reading it upside down, did you not realize that? You’ve been traveling in the completely wrong direction ever since you left my abode.”

“The fact that you’ve been following me this entire time is really creepin’ me out, Doc.” I told him flatly, shivering visibly as I continued. “So you could’ve leaped to my assistance at any point in time, yet you decided not to? That’s sorta fucked up, man.”

“Correction,” He retorted, “I had actually lost track of you for a while. In all honesty, I merely followed the road until I sensed something was off when I approached the crossroads. At first I thought it was one of one of those temptresses that lurk within the woods, but I was shocked to see the Possessed all the way out here of all places.”

“The Possessed?” I parroted, raising an eyebrow. “What are they?”

And indeed I was curious, as I never had seen nor heard mention of them in the profiles or lore books. So, genuinely, and quite naturally, I was bound to be intrigued by this.

“Some say they are lost souls, of sorts.” Ciro began, shifting his black bag away from him. “Remnants from a time long since passed, they are the creations of dark magic from the age of the previous Demon Lord.”

“Why haven’t they ‘changed’ with the rest of the creatures on this world?” said I, tipping my chin upwards in thought. “The current one made sure of that, I thought.”

“Some things defy even the laws of magic, as well as the godlike beings that manipulate it.” He turned to me. "You, out of all people, should know that.”

I froze.

“W-What do you mean?” I asked, sliding away from him as my heart leapt heavily in my chest.

The sun casted a glint off the lenses of his mask, the good doctor dipping his head low as he flicked the cross around his neck.

“This necklace detects the soul essence of every living creature around it in a fifty yard radius. Demonic or spirit energy, it matters not, considering you have neither.”

“Bullshit.” I told him flatly, pointing jabbing finger into his chest. “You have no proof.”

“Actually,” He began, nudging my pointer away. “I’ve known long before you had even left my house. How long did you think you were unconscious for, young man? A few hours, a day at most?”

He leaned forwards, and I couldn’t help but swallow the growing lump in my throat. A single bead of sweat trickled down my brow as he placed a gloved hand on my shoulder, shaking his head as he chuckled mirthfully.

“Oh no, my friend. You were seized by sleep for many days and nights, and when I had first discovered you, I had almost considered you dead. You had no energy, you see, and I was only able to tell you were alive by checking your pulse.”

He let go of me.

“Even now I do not perceive anything different about you. Even the tiniest amount of demonic energy can be detected by this enchanted cross. Yet, even with the milk entering you, it could no longer do so. It’s as if your body filtered it out somehow. Very interesting turn of events, indeed.”

“Is that it then,” I started, clenching my fists. “You want to cut me open like some rat and see what makes me tick? Is that it? I’m some kind of unnatural freak, huh? Well, sorry Doc, but I ain’t going through with it!”

My body tensed as I motioned to leap from the back of the cart, when suddenly Ciro grabbed me by the collar of neck, hoisting me up into the air as if I was but a mere feather.

“By all that holy, calm yourself. I’m a doctor, not a crazed sorcerer.” He implored me, continuing to hold me until I finally stopped frantically waving my legs. “We are going to play that game of questions you are so fond of when we get back.”

“Alright...alright, I’m calm. I’m calm.” I let loose a sigh, closing my eyes as hoisted me from the back of the wagon and placed me next to him.

“Good.” He turned to me. “It’ll make dissecting you a lot easier.”

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

Suddenly, he snorted. “A mere jest, do not worry, young man. We will discover what you are in due time. The Chief God commands us all to help our neighbor, and to assist the needy so that people-”

“That people live temperate, virtuous lives of kindness and charity.” I finished for him, crossing my arms. “I know.”

“Ah,” Ciro chuckled. “Perhaps you are not so different after all, seeing as you know the most important commandment verbatim.”

“I’m familiar with a little bit of it.” I admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of head. However, I decided to change the topic, at least until we got to Ciro’s place. “So, where’s my helmet?”

“That thing?” Ciro asked, thumbing to his rear. “It’s in the back.”

I turned, and leaning forward, rummaged through a few burlap bags until I found the one containing my helmet. Pulling it towards me, I frowned.

“It’s all scratched up,” I huffed, twirling it around as I ran a thumb over the chipped and smashed visor. “Damn, how am I going to fix this?”

“We’ll figure something out.” The Good doctor chuckled, wrapping a friendly arm around me in humor, holding the reins in his grasp as he flicked his cross. “It’s what heroes do, after all.”

There was a lot I didn’t know about this place. Hell, there was a lot that I didn’t even know about myself. As for Ciro, well, I supposed he was a good guy at heart.

“Ciro?”

“Yes, young man?”

“Are we there yet?”

\----

Thanks for reading!


	10. 10

It's still dark where I'm at so technically it's still night!

\-----------

“You know, if I had my bike, this journey would be hell of a lot shorter.” I mumbled, crossing my arms and leaning into the back of my seat with a sigh. “How long do you think we have until we get there?”

“No matter how many times you ask, young man, the answer is still the same.” Ciro replied, holding the reins loosely in his grasp. “It took you two days to travel all the way down there. Taking a cart is much faster, I assure you.”

“As you say.” I shrugged, glancing around.

When we had left, the sun was just beginning to rise. Now, it lingered in the clouds like a great ball of fire, casting sharp-lined shadows that stretched out upon the earth, the midday beginning to take its rightful place as the minutes shifted into hours.

I was bored. I’d taken road trips before, but those had been in a comfortable air-conditioned car with the radio on full blast. Unlike what you see in video games and books, fast travel did not exist when it actually came down to it. If you were traveling from point a to point b, then hell, I hope you were in it for the long haul.

“In the meantime,” I began, turning to the doctor. “Do you think you could tell me more about where we are? I mean, seeing as I hit my head pretty hard. Can’t really remember stuff all that well, you know?”

“Fair enough.” Ciro replied. “As of now we are in the Kingdom of Jalicho, ruled under King Nolan the Third.”

“That’s very general, Ciro-”

“Hush. The Kingdom of Jalicho is broken up into four distinct provinces.” He held a finger up as he began to list them off. “Nevaria, which is the largest of the four is also where the capital is located. They have a large weapons industry going on there now, at least from what I hear. Something about handheld cannons or another, I forget. It takes a certain kind of man to enjoy himself there, what, with all the politics and bureaucratic nonsense. The Council of Nobles especially seems to take a liking to making everything more difficult than it has to be.”

He raised a second finger. “Olekson, which is more or less farmland as far as the eye can see.”

“That’s it?” I asked.

“See for yourself.” Ciro replied, a tinge of amusement in his voice. “If you like sheep and cows, then you’ll love it.”

A third finger. “Pasture, the third province, is where the King stations all his military forces as well as train it. If you ever go there, then be warned, it’s a damp and muggy place that’s mostly marshland. I had to deliver a message there once and saw mosquitoes as big as my fist.”

“Nope.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Nope. Nope. Nope.”

Finally, he raised a fourth. “Lucio, the fourth and final province. It’s where we currently are and is the only coastal province in the entire kingdom. In my opinion, it’s the best out of the four. The vineyards here produce excellent wine, and the port cities tend to quite the nightlife.” A blush came to his cheeks as his mask became tinged with red. He chuckled, placing a finger under his chin as he looked upwards. “Especially the red light district in Bolisha.”

“Say no more, doc. I think I got it figured out.” I said with a grin. “What about the place we were just in? Bleakborn or whatever they called it?”

The doctor readjusted his grip on the reins, offering me a quick glance before continuing. “It’s a town under Lord Burnwood. He treats his people well enough. I believe he’s up north, however, so he’s probably unaware of the misfortune that befell his land.”

“As long as the people are safe now, I suppose.” I agreed, crossing my arms.

“Oh!” Ciro suddenly exclaimed, reaching into his bag. “I almost forgot. Sir Athalos wanted me to give you this when you woke up. He believes you to be some kind of hero such as myself. I would’ve told him no, yet he seemed rather fixed on giving this to you.”

He dropped something into my lap, upon which I grabbed it and leveled it to my face. It was a medal. More specifically, it came in the form of a golden cross, the fastening ribbon above it a darker shade of black with two gold lines running vertically down it.

“It’s the Golden Cross of Valor.” Ciro explained, noticing my confusion. “It’s awarded to soldiers under the Order who show bravery in the field of battle. It’s only awardable by captains of entire units or above. It takes courage to get it, which is why it’s only awarded to heroes for the most part. However, you should wear it with pride.”

He coughed. “Once you finally get a proper uniform, of course.”

“I didn’t join the Order.” I said firmly, brushing my thumb across the golden front of the award, watching it with interest as the afternoon sun caused it to glisten and gleam. “I’m not cut out for that kind of stuff. I’m no warrior.”

“You have the potential.” Ciro stated. “I believe anyone can accomplish great things if they set their mind to it.”

I could only nod at his statement, tucking the cross into the pocket of my jacket. I didn’t think really want to hear the motivational speech from Ciro. It already began to sound cliche as all hell.

“Yep, everyday hero. Gotcha, doc.”

“A hero must be willing to sacrifice everything for what they believe in. Even if you are fighting in a shit world, under the leadership of incompetent idiots, with equipment made by the lowest bidder, you must have heart.” Ciro tightened his grip on the reins, his gloves squeaking softly as he shook his head. “You have too many heroes these days, young man. People who simply aren’t ready for all that it entails. Too many times have I seen a man be put on a pedestal only for them to fall at the moment of truth. Sure, they are strong, but simply put, it is their actions, their willpower, that makes or breaks them. One day, we will persevere, I’m sure of it. Valiant hearts and steely eyed warriors of resolution is what we need these days. I’d trade a hundred so called heroes, young man, for a single soldier with courage in his heart and a fire in his eyes. A man who’d rather bite off his own tongue that succumb to his dark urges.”

He turned to me.

“Sacrifice. It’s what humanity has been doing long since before the rise and fall of gods and demons. Surely, selfishness is not all that we are capable off. Perhaps I will not live long enough to see the sun stretch over brighter pastures, but I’m damn well going to try my best to make it so. When a man no longer thinks with his brain, and instead makes his decisions based on the whims of his loins, well, it ends there. When a man is no longer able to choose, he ceases to be a man.”

Ciro fell silent, before asking me.

“I apologize, I went off on a tangent.”

“Don’t worry about it, Doc. I know the feeling all too well. I find that the more you think about it the worst it gets. Can’t let all the rage build up inside, you know? It isn’t healthy.” I replied, looking downwards. “It’s sad, of course. But the feeling will do nothing other than tear you up inside.”

“As you say, young man.” Ciro said solemnly. “As you say.”

\----

It had taken a good portion of the day to get to Ciro’s home, but we were finally there. The wheels of the wagon slowly came to a creaking halt near the chest high cobble stone walls that the hero doctor kept around his place. I hopped off the cart, and with a groan, stretched my legs and back until I heard a satisfying ‘pop’ in my spine.

“Yeesh, that was a bit of a long ride, wasn’t it?” I said aloud, rolling my neck as I tucked my helmet underneath my arm. “You didn’t tell me it was going to take until sunset to get to your place.”

Ciro only shook his head, climbing off his place from the cart and leading his mule by the reins down the dirt path that led to his abode. I walked alongside him, tucking my free hand into the pockets of my jeans before leaning against the wall. He came to a stop near the iron gates that led into a small courtyard, withdrawing from his robes a brass key before inserting it into the lock. With a visible twist and an audible click, he pushed the gates open, gesturing for me to enter before speaking.

“You never asked, young man. I only assumed that disgruntled look on your face during the ride was you merely thinking deep thoughts.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I replied. “If you consider wondering when the hell we were going to get there deep thoughts, then sure, I was practically a damn philosopher.”

“That mouth of yours is going to get you into deep trouble one day, mark my words.” Ciro said with a sigh, following after me. “The door is unlocked. Feel free to go inside whenever you like. I, on the other hand, must put Carina back in her stable.”

Patting his mule and giving me a final nod, he wandered off to a nearby shack, leaving me to my vices.

“Have fun…” I trailed off, turning around and looking at the courtyard.

It was rather small, all things considered. Bright green grass furbished the earth from corner to corner, dripping wet and glistening with a sheet of freshly fallen evening dew. A well was placed in the center, a wooden bucket nestled beside it and ready for use.

For some bigshot Order Hero, Ciro Cardone lived quite humbly. A single story cobble stone hut stood before me, the straw roof rustling gently in the wind. There was but a single window for his house, an amber gleam coming from within and illuminating the wooden porch with the softening shades of ash and ember. The porch itself connected the hut to Ciro’s stable and work shed, the maple awning shielding the connecting pathway from the elements.

“Home sweet home, I suppose.” I whispered, walking up to the front door and giving it a gentle nudge. With that being done, I stepped inside, closing the door behind me.

The interior of the hut was a kitchen, bedroom, and living room all blended into one. There was but one more doorway in the place, located in the back; the guestroom.

Not wanting to break anything or accidentally knock something over, I beelined towards the back, entering my room before tossing my helmet upon the twin sized straw bed. With a heavy sigh, I undid my jacket, hanging it on a nearby chair before sitting on the mattress.

My shirt was drenched with sweat, and, despite it being black, sweat had only made it darker. It was dirty, but at least it wasn’t drenched in blood or wine. Fantasy settings don’t have stain remover or detergent, after all.

Did they?

I didn’t really care to find out, but it still was my favorite shirt. ‘IDGAF’ was plastered in bright, bold white letters on the front.

“Kind of ironic now.” I mumbled, closing my eyes and dipping my head back.

Pretty soon, I was out like a light.


	11. 11

Short Chapter. Super Short. And I finally put something you've all been waiting for inside. Sure, it ain't glamorous or fancy, but that's what I personally like about it. Believe it or not, I'm uploading this on an airplane using the wifi. It sucks, but what can you do. I'll consider this a half a chapter sort of thing, so I'll build upon it later. 

\----

 

Chapter 10.5

 

If I thought I was hot when I passed out, I really shouldn’t have been surprised to have woken up feeling like I was practically on fire. Perspiration dripped into my eyes the moment I opened them, causing them to sting uncomfortably as I blinked and glanced around the room. Disoriented, I reached up and dragged a palm across of my forehead, wiping the sweat from my hand and standing up sluggishly as if in some drunken stupor. To say I wasn’t feeling well was an understatement. My mouth felt dry, as if it was some close cousin of the goddamn Sahara Desert. To put it simply, I was thirsty.

“Ciro.” I mumbled, shuffling over to the doorway before peaking my head into the main room. To my surprise, he wasn’t there. A quick look at his bed showed that the covers weren’t even touched. Everything, from what I could see, was exactly the same. The table was still messy, and the counter-tops didn’t even look like they had been touched. The fireplace had long since died out, the charred logs now nothing more than a shriveled husk of charcoal and ash.

“Ciro?” I repeated, albeit rather loudly.

Was he really gone the whole night?

If he was, where could he have gone?

Was he alright?

Light shone through the window, the muffled sound of chirping birds coming from the outside, filling my ears and causing me to cock my head in confusion.

What time was it?

How long had I been out for?

“Fuck me, I’m all kinds of dicked up.” I grumbled, shaking my head and walking towards the door. Shoving it open, I stepped outside, my boots thudding heavily on the patio as I looked around.

It was bright out. The sun hung in the middle of the sky as white clouds rolled gently across the vast blue canvas above.

As my eyes scanned across the courtyard, there still wasn’t any trace of that damnable doctor.

Oh well, time to steal his water.

Walking across the grass, I knelt down, and, grabbing the bucket next to the well, promptly tossed it down into dark.

Then I waited for the splash.

And waited.

And waited some more.

When it never came, I could only clutch my head in confusion as the rope connecting the bucket suddenly tensed up. That must have meant it reached the bottom.

The only thing burning more fiercely than I was was my curiosity. Was the well simply dried up? Or was there something greater going on here? Regardless, I was going to find out.

\---

I sure as hell wasn’t going to get rope burn in the process. Zipping up my jacket, I nestled my helmet over my head as I clutched the rope with gloved hands. Sliding down this thing in order to sate my intrigue wasn’t the brightest idea, but it would be kinda similar to my high school gym class. Being one of the only kids able to pass the rope climb, I felt confident in my ability to get out of the well should I be mistaken.

Ah well, Geronimo.

Hoisting myself over the stone wall of the well, I wrapped my legs around the rope and plummeted into the darkness.

“Holy shit!” I screamed instantly, wondering what the hell I had been thinking moments prior. “I regret this decision!”

It must’ve been the heat. I got all kinds of weird when I was dehydrated and hot. I squeezed my eyes shut, gritting my teeth as I slid faster towards the ground. It grew dim as I inevitably reached the bottom, the bucket slamming underneath my feet as gravity caught up with me. The rope snapped, causing me to fall to the floor with nothing but my knees to soften the impact.

Groaning, I slumped over, clutching my knees as I spat out some obscene curse. Contrary to popular belief, a sandy floor does not, in fact, soften your fall.

But that brought up a rather interesting inquiry.

Why was there floor at the bottom of a well?

I raised my head, my neck quivering slightly as sand spilled off of my helmet. Peering around the room revealed that I had indeed fallen into a rather spacious chamber, complete with smooth stoney walls akin to that of a castle interior.

Surprisingly, my assumption had been correct. Ciro definitely had a few secrets of his own, but my highly advanced genre savviness managed to save the day once again. Despite the racking pain in my knees, along with the fire in my belly that only seemed to have grown in intensity since I had descended, I decided to press onward.

Stumbling to my feet and dusting myself off, I shuffled through the dusty wastes of the Order hero’s little chamber of secrets. I had expected it to be rather dark, being as far underground as I currently was. However, the light from the well’s surface provided sufficient visibility for my little spelunking endeavor. It was dim, but still tolerable.

Placing a hand against the wall allowed me to support myself as I ventured deeper into the damp and dark little world, occasionally lifting up my visor in order to catch a breath of (fresh?) air and wipe the sweat from my forehead.

A few minutes of shuffling aimlessly along the edges of the room eventually awarded me in the form of the solid sensation of a door handle brushing against my fingertips. With a yank, it opened, and suddenly I was greeted with a plethora of torches secured along the wall in iron fastenings. My eyes burned from the recently discovered light, but hell, I was glad that I could finally see.

Rows of tables filled with rudimentary tools lined the edges of the room, and the smell of chemicals wafted in the damp air and caused my nostrils to sting and my eyes to water. A quick closing of the visor rectified that problem, but it didn’t help muffling the sound of my motorcycle purring loudly in the middle of the room, despite all the bubbling concoctions and flashing gems swirling on workstations every which way.

If anything, this newly discovered location was disorienting and befuddling as all hell.

Wait a minute…

THAT WAS MY BIKE!

“You aren’t supposed to be in here, young man.” Came a familiar voice, calm and warm as usual, but yet tinged with something else. Was...was the good doctor threatening me?

I began to turn, and in my mind I knew fully well that there was going to be a bunch of explaining to do on both sides.

 

\---------  
It's 'eh' quality, but that may just be the fatigue and travel weariness talking. Or not, I don't know.

Thanks for reading, fellas!


	12. 12

This chapter is entirely in third person, which I rather enjoy writing. Anyway, it's sort of an interlude, I suppose. I hope you all are enjoying the story, cheers fellas.

\-----------------------------------  
Chapter 12

Lord Reginald Von Bleakborn was not pleased.

It had been only a mere two months since he had left his town back in Lucio Province. And now here he was, wallowing in icy slush, shit, and piss on the Ulvarian border. Not only that, but with his supply lines being raided by the paganistic bastards from the north, his men were in all sense and purposes, stuck. His army couldn’t march on an empty stomach, and neither he nor the other Lords of Jalicho were going to risk the lives of their men for an offensive push that would cause more harm than good. He didn’t care what the Archbishop said; the levies were stretched thin enough as is, and having them drive deeper into the frigid grips of Ulvria’s forests under equipped would serve no purpose but to kill them.

He'd seen incompetent field marshalls before; damn Lescatian fools didn't know how to command to save their life.

Which was exactly what contributed to their untimely end. Such is the undoing of a place full of internal strife and the idiocy that comes with placing whiny females in high government positions. Renown hero capital of the world his ass, those morons met a fitting end. Yet, now comes the trouble of the inevitable third attempt to destroy them. 

That Lilim bitch. 

Bleakborn sighed, letting his mind switch to more pressing matters. 

Remaining here in the Wintry Valley would inevitably cause the crusading armies to starve out. Nothing grew here. The land was iced over with swathes of permafrost; to say nothing of the occasional blizzard, the constant cold and ceaseless snow weighed heavy on the heart. And, despite his firm belief in just cause and righteous war, he wanted to go home.

He shivered, clutching his long flowing fur cloak and pulling it against him tightly. The gloves on his hands did nothing to protect him from the icy stillness that hung heavily in the air like a thick cloud of pure bitterness. Rather, it only accentuated the fact that, despite being in a large insulated tent, the elements always found a way to make one’s life miserable.

With a sigh, Lord Bleakborn watched his own breath dissipate into the air, shaking his head as he reached for the chalice of lukewarm tea that rested on the desk.

“The Creator cares not for my troubles,” He muttered, taking a sip. “Obviously.”

Suddenly the flap to his tent parted way as an armored soldier stepped inside, frost swaddling their gauntlets as patches of snow flaked freely from their padded shoulders Shaking the snow from their boots, they promptly dipped their head low, bowing deeply before him.

“You may rise.” He said simply, interlocking his fingers and leaning forward.

“Lord Bleakborn,” The Trooper began, “Duke Marrigold wishes to inform you that King Farland desires the presence of the current commanders of the vanguard. The Duke will be there with Lord Hallow and Lord Yeats at dawn.”

“Very well.” Bleakborn stated flatly, nodding his head. “Tell His Grace that I shall do so, and that I shall meet him at the time which has been assigned to me.”

The Soldier nodded.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Then you are dismissed.” Bleakborn finished, waving the man off.

“My Lord, I also bring a message from a Captain Rowan Athalos.”

The Noble peaked up at this, flicking his viridescent eyes towards the man and stroking his great red-haired beard. Leaning back in his chair, Bleakborn raised his arm and gestured for the messenger to come closer.

With another nod, the Soldier placed a small ivory tube into the palm off his hand, curtly bowing once more before parting the flaps of the tent, effectively taking his leave.

The Lord had to admit, he was intrigued. It had been a long time since he had last heard from the Captain of his town guard. Rowan was deeply disappointed when he found out that he would not be accompanying the Lord up north. He was a good man, however. Loyalty was a diminishing virtue during these turbulent times, and an honest individual held their weight in gold. He hoped things were still in one piece. After all, a settlement without a proper governor and city watch more often than not went to shit in a fortnight.

Popping open the lid, he slid the tiny roll of parchment into his hand, quickly unraveling it and looking at the words inside.

 

Possessed took most of the townsfolk.  
The situation has been dealt with.  
Ciro Cardone of the Lago Republic sends his regards.

\- Captain Rowan Athalos  
Bulwark Guard

 

Bleakborn furrowed his brows, his lips contorting into a grim frown as he read over the letter. The sentences were curt, a common characteristic of avian delivered messages. Yet, the contents disturbed him greatly. The area of his jurisdiction was currently in shambles, and now that being finally made aware of this, he pondered on whether or not to ask the King for an early dismissal.

No, it would not be wise. Regardless of the reason, no Jalicho noble would simply leave a war, much less a holy one demanded by the Church and her Order. For the time being he could do nothing, a prospect which angered him greatly but ultimately one he had no control over. If he was anywhere else, there would be great haste back towards his settlement.

Once again, fate bent him over and unceremoniously fucked him.

The only solace, however, was the fact that the problem had been handled.

Bleakborn rubbed his chin thoughtfully, grinding his teeth together as he took another sip of tea from his now cold chalice. The frigid liquid did not bother him, as he was too deep in thought to think of anything else.

Ciro Cardone…

The legendary hero from the Lago Republic had been known for his scholarly mind and a low tolerance for nonsense.

He would have to send the Hero his regards later. What kind of ruler failed to reward good deeds? Despite the stigma against awarding people for doing the job they are expected to do in the first place, it filled him with a sort of humble pleasure.

“I’d be damned if I became some kind of fickle fellow like the Duke of Pasture.” He murmured, stifling a cough before sniffling loudly.

“Guard!” He called out, staring at the iron-clad head that soon peaked in between the space of his tent.

“Milord?”

“Have a servant fetch me my quills and paper, and bring me the Avianist; I desire to write a letter.”

He coughed.

“And while you’re at it, some bloody hot tea would be lovely.”


	13. 13

Chapter 13

Yeah, I know what I said about Sunday. My computer died on me so I had to get a new one. Anyway, sorry for the long wait. Here ya'll folks go. Thanks for reading!

\-----

“I don’t know, Doc. The whole suggestion seems pretty unnecessary to me.”

“Of course it would. I should say that your response is not all that surprising, given the extended power trip you had undergone a few days prior.”

We had started talking like this, Ciro and I. It turns out that I was actually a long ways from being in any sort of shape to venture out on my own. And, to be honest, I didn’t want to stay here for long. After all, how could I possibly find a way out of, well, this particular universe if all I did was hang around the hero’s hut? Sure, the good doctor made a valid point. I was no use to him or anyone if I was dead or otherwise occupied. However, the necessity that I undergo some type of medieval military training was absurd. What did one have to know besides knowing that the pointy bit of a blade faces the bad guys?

Ciro sat across from me in the kitchen, idly stirring a steaming mug of some tea or the like with a wooden straw. Everytime he spoke, he seemed to look up a little more, punctuating his sentences as if to further his own point.

“Young man, survival is not just about pointing the tip of your sword towards your foes. Rather, it’s about knowing what something is and how it is used effectively.”

“Sure,” I replied, crossing my arms. “But I could always head to the next town, or-”

“You’re forgetting alchemy, magic, martial studies, theory, iron work, fletching, the crafting prospects of-”

“Alright, alright!” I interrupted, clutching my head.

“-How to read a map.”

“I get it. There’s a lot I have to learn. But, couldn’t you just cook up some sort of potion or spell that does the work for me?”

Ciro stared at me. “That is the most...lazy way I’ve ever seen someone try to get out of hard work.”

I shrugged. “I try.”

Suddenly, the scientist slammed his fist down on the table, tea splashing against the hardwood before spilling down onto the stony floor below. “I will not have you under my roof being an absolute sloth!”

I shrunk back into my chair, my eyes widening at the man’s abrupt display of raw, passionate emotion.

“Okay, Ciro. You win.” I said through gritted teeth, raising my hands defensively.

“Plus, that is not possible.” Ciro continued, waving me off and sitting back down. “There is no known potion or spell that suddenly increased the skill one has in a particular area. To even think so would be, well, rather absurd I should say.”

Interesting. Then how did the gauntlet give me that ability? Or was that something else entirely? Huh.

“If you say so, doc.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “But where would I even start?”

The Doctor suddenly chuckled, folding his hands together and interlacing his fingers. Bringing his elbows up to the table, he nodded slowly, and, leaning in, spoke plainly. “I have a most surefire solution.”

All I could do was gulp.

\-----

One would think that medieval era exercise would be living hell, right? To say that I was pleasantly surprised would not be too far off from my actual feelings on the matter. The very next day, Ciro had gotten me up early. Needless to say, he told me I was going to be going for a run, and that if I didn’t come back sweating he would...

“-kick your ass, do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.” I grumbled, wiping the sleep from eyes as I stepped from his porch and onto the grassy courtyard still wet from the evening’s dew.

As I walked towards the gate, I couldn’t help but notice the way my back seemed to crack and pop with every slight movement I made.

“Damn straw beds…” I murmured, parting the gate and stepping forth from the confines of the hut’s walls.

Where to go first?

Come to think of it, Ciro didn’t give me any directions. All I knew was that if I went right, I had the chance of running into some wayward ‘Possessed’ or a horny goat girl.

With that being said, I decided to head left.

Running had always come easy to me. A real shocker for most people, considering that I’m an American through and through. The key to cardiovascular exercise was simple: watch your breathing, keep a consistent pace, and let your mind wander. With that being said, I had just finished zoning out until I felt my foot snag on some stay rock lying in the middle of the road. It caused me to stumble, but due to my ability to stay on my feet, I managed to avoid falling flat on my face.

“Fuck,” I blubbered out, wiping my brow free of sweat. “That was close.”

Dusting my hands off, I continued my regimen.

\----

The first rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon, deep sets of orange and amber breaking through the canopy of the forest and casting the shadows of branches upon the earthen road that stretched out before me.

I lost track of time, that much was certain. The only way I knew to get back at this point would be to do a complete one-eighty and jog back. Not like it would be a problem, however. Regardless, the boredom was getting to me. The temptation of singing out loud was beginning to grow too great for me to bear. Yet, I was damn keen on making sure it didn’t hit that point.

Bringing it back down to a light jog, I looked around, wiping my forehead with the collar of my shirt before gulping down some fresh air.

Cardiovascular exercise tip number two: never stop running. Slow down if you have to, but don’t begin to walk. If you do that, well, it’s going to be a lot harder to start running again.

It was nice outside. The humidity wasn’t a huge factor, there were hardly any bugs out, and it was cool enough that I didn’t overheat just by breathing.

The crickets were starting to drift into the deep corners of the woods, the birds began to sing, and eyes as green as the emerald fields in front of me gazed upon my body with such interest that I-

Wait, what?

I came to a halt on the side of the road, resting my hands on the top of my head as I peered beyond the bordered farmland to the left side of the path.

It was there that I noticed her, sitting cross legged upon the grass with yellow flowers stuffed into her mouth.

And as I stared, she continued to munch, her eyelids beginning to droop lazily before she suddenly shook her head.

“Uh,” I began, leaning up against the post. “Hiya?”

“Oh, what?” She murmured, swaying softly to the side before catching herself on her hands. “Oh! I’m sorry! Hi!” She scrambled to her feet, letting out a quiet yawn as stretched her arms high above her head.

And as the dawn rose higher into the sky, the fields basked in the glow of the newly risen sun.

It was at that moment did I finally recognize her species. From the large and curvy ram horns on her head to the pastel white wool that enveloped her entirety body, she was a weresheep through and through. Luscious platinum locks fell from her head, gracing her pale cheeks before kissing her neck at the tip in loose strands. A pair of soft sheep ears poked out from the intermingling of wool and hair, twitching slightly every time she spoke. And, despite her, from what I perceived to be, quite exuberant personality, she was rather soft spoken. The tone of her voice barely raised itself beyond that of a quiet whisper, smooth like silk and enriched with a certain melodious undertone of which I could not blatantly describe.

Yet, it would be foolish of me to ignore the basis of her form. That being highly desireable if I should say so myself. Wool wrapped around her neck like some sort of luxuriant scarf, exposing her slender shoulders to me with every gentle movement she made with her arms. A strong urge to simply touch the stuff overcame me, and I couldn’t help but take a step lest I do something drastic, like poke it. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to really notice, opting instead to trail a latex (or so I thought it was) covered finger down her milky white waist and stare at me through half-lidded viridescent eyes. Velvet ribbons were tied at the points where skin turned to wool, the most noticeable being the one she wore around her neck. It was fastened with a little bell, as were the others, and each time she parted her hair from her eyes or tucked her bangs behind her ears they jingled faintly.

Of her intimate parts, it should go without saying. Her breasts were ample, constrained by a sort of rubbery bra-like garment outlined with soft wool. A small fluffy sheep tail was docked behind her tush, which swayed occasionally as she stomped the earth with cloven hooves.

“I’m Maybelle.” She whispered, twirling her hair between her fingers as she looked at me. “What’s your name, Mister?”

“My name is-” I began, suddenly stopping when I noticed she was on the verge of falling on her back. “Miss? You’re about to-”

“Huh?” The sheep lady snapped to attention, her eyes widening as she look around her in surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry. I tend to doze off sometimes. It’s a silly thing, I know, but...but…”

Her eyes began to droop again, and I could have swore she almost started to snore. That was, until I snapped my fingers. “Maybelle?”

“Oh gosh, I did it again! I’m really sorry. It’s this wool, you see. I can’t even hold a conversation for two seconds because I get really sleepy all the time.” Her eyes began to glisten with tears, and I’m certain she would’ve started to cry if I hadn’t raised my hands up in an effort to reassure her.

“No! It’s fine! I understand completely!” I cried out, taking a step forward. “Listen, it’s just who you are, right? I mean, I’ve been told that I’m a bit lazy but, you know, I get over it.”

“How can you ever know that much about a sheep’s struggle to free herself from the confines of slumber?”

Frankly, I didn’t really know what to say to that.

“Well, you know…” I trailed off, rubbing the back of my head. “I read it in a book once?”

It wasn’t a lie, that much I knew.

“A book?” She sniffled, shaking her head as she tried steady herself. “Hehe, that’s a real funny excuse, Mister.” Maybelle wiped her eyes, sitting back down upon the grass and patting the space next to her. “I’ve never seen you around before, did you settle nearby?”

Huh. Deja vu.

“You could say that.” I replied, plopping down next to her with a sigh. “Let’s just say that I’m nearby, doing my own little thing.”

I smiled.

“Wow, so mysterious.” She giggled, folding her hands in her lap. “You’re a pretty interesting fella, ain’t ya?”

“So I’ve been told.” I said to her. “There’s a lot you don’t need to know about me.”

“The kind of thing you shouldn’t say if you don’t want to catch a girl’s...a girl’s…” She trailed off, sleep suddenly seizing her.

This time, I didn’t do anything. Rather, I merely watched her slump to the earth, snoring all the while.

“I’ll see you later, May.” I chuckled, standing up.

I had a run to finish.

\---

Thanks to Fission Battery helping me out with this, the chapter came a little earlier than expected.


	14. 14

\--------------  
Chapter 14

A/N: I literally have nothing to say other than 'enjoy!' 

I dreamt of home again. Never thought that I’d be so glad to see it, if only during the dark crevices of my mind when it dwelled in the confines of sleep. Hell, there wasn’t a more beautiful sight in all the world during those moments. And true, it wasn’t anything glamorous or luxurious.

But it was home.

My home.

I didn’t like it for it’s appearance, where it was build, all that nonsense. No, I enjoyed the memories I had there. Good or bad, it didn’t matter. It made me feel something; it took me back to a time where everything had made sense. Who could blame me? Humans are fickle creatures, truly. We grow attached to things that have little worth, hold on to the experiences that bring us down. Everything that doesn’t contribute to our survival and continuity on this planet, we hold dear.

But then again, maybe I’m wrong. Sure, water and food is good and all. But they are a means to an end. We all have our quaint, little fucked up piece of history that wound us. Yet, it made us feel, it made us learn.

Since, when it came down to it, only you know yourself. Everyone has to find that little something that helps us live, but not everyone discovers the thing that gives us a reason worth living for.

Best not to dwell on it, I suppose. It hurts the heart to think about it, plus the headache really sucks.

Kid, wherever you are…

Live a good life for me, okay?

-

Eventually the sounds of evening faded out into the world in order to make room for the symphony of the coming dawn. However, there’s only so many times you can look out the window and appreciate the surrealness of it all. You get tired of the birds chirping, the smell of dew on the brittle blades of emerald grass. Sometimes you just want to go back to bed and wake up to see if the world changed while you were gone.

It never does.

“Fucking straw beds…” I grumbled, swinging my legs over the side of my uncomfortable and barely tolerable piece of fuckery where I slept. 

The days came suddenly and with ferocity. To be honest, I’d lost count of just how long I’d been in this place.

“Time to get up, young man!” Came the cheerful and energetic voice of the Doctor that had took me in.

This early in the morning, I found his tone to be grating on my nerves. Everyday at six o’clock the Hero kicked down my door to get me up and moving. More training, more learning, what a pain in the ass. But I’ll admit, it was getting easier, especially when it came to weapon’s practice.

Pretty soon I was up and about, scarfing down a quick breakfast of finely painted apples and milk before heading outside to the courtyard.

I hadn’t taken two steps out of the door when the Doctor grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

“Today is going to be a little different, my reluctant student.” He began, folding his arms behind his back.

Making a sudden motion with his hands, I brought my arms up in order to shield myself: one over my face, and the other, to protect my crotch.

I shall elaborate.

After Ciro had parried my strikes the first day and punished me with a swift kick to the balls, I began to learn rather quickly that this man was a hard teacher. Not wanting a repeating the mistakes of days gone by, I jumped back and raised my fists.

The Good Doctor stood still for a moment, as if taken aback, only to suddenly shake as if he caught a sudden chill. However, knowing better, I’d say the man was laughing at me. “Oh no, no, no, young man! I am merely returning this item back into your possession.”

In Ciro’s grasp was something that I had grew distant from during my stay in Lucio. Yet, there it was.

“Don’t make me put on the magic pain glove, doc.” I began, taking a step back. “I find that having my blood inside my body and not weaponizing it to be rather lovely.”

“Contrary to what you may believe about this device,” Ciro replied. “I’ve found during my tinkerings some valuable insight you may wish to know.”

“Such as….?” I trailed off, trying to get my point across.

“This.”

With a quick flick of his finger, the Good Doctor twisted the skull upon the gauntlet upwards, an audible click ringing out into the courtyard as he held it up for me to see.

 

The tubes dangling out the bottom of the device began to recede back into the wrist guard of the glove, shifting into place with a resounding whirr before falling silent.

 

He held up a finger, and, pressing downwards on the top, effectively made a foot long blade shoot out from the top from some concealed scabbard, slick sharp metal ringing in my ears as my eyes widened in shock.

“What! How’d you get that figured out?” I exclaimed, clutching my head in surprise.

“Like I said,” Ciro began. “Tinkering.”

He gestured towards the device with his other hand, before elaborating further.

“I almost lost an eye attempting to unravel the mysteries of this gadget.” He looked up. “I must say, the technological aspect of this piece is simply, well, fascinating really!”

“Is that it?” I asked.

“As I stated before,” Ciro replied, holding the gauntlet out to me. “There is still much to learn. For now, don’t fiddle with it. We don’t want it going back into your veins, am I correct?”

“Spot on, actually.” I nodded, taking the armored hand from him. “You have no idea how much it hurt.”

Slipping back into it was rather easy, as if I had never taken it off in the first place. I felt the all too familiar fastenings of the device as it enclosed itself around my hand. And so, I found myself bracing for the inevitable pain that was sure to come. When it didn’t, I let loose a sigh I didn’t realize that I had been holding in.

“Thank God…” I murmured, turning back to my Hero Instructor. “So, what next?”

“Now,” The Scientist said, leaning in so close that the goggles of his mask pressed up against my forehead. “We train.”

\---

“Goddammit!” I growled, “This isn’t what I had in mind at all!”

I found myself running on the road once again, only this time carrying a leather backpack filled to the brim with miscellaneous bits and bobs from Ciro’s science shack. And, although it didn’t look like much, stone runes weighed an asston if you had enough of them. In both arms, I carried two metal buckets of water that sloshed around over the sides if I swung my arms too much.

Not only that, but Ciro was making me wear my helmet throughout the entire workout. If I didn’t pass out, I was pretty sure the heat was going to kill me.

This sucked.

Coming down the road, I couldn’t help but notice a familiar face off in the distance.

Maybelle.

Seeing as I didn’t have anything better to do, I opted to go up and have a chat with the sleepy sheep girl. After all, she had been pleasant so far.

Slowing down to a brisk walk, I climbed the hill she laid on, watching as she turned around and rummaged through the wicker basket at her side.

“Hey, May!” I began, lifting up my visor and offering her a grin. “What’s up?”

“Hm?” The Weresheep murmured dreamily, turning her head and staring at me with droopy eyes. “Oh, hi Mister. I was just getting ready to have something to eat before my midday nap.”

She smiled, pursing her lips as she withdrew some kind of pinkish fruit from the depths of her basket. It was there that I noticed it, the sun casting rays off of the flesh of the translucent plant, accentuating the sweet nectar that dripped openly from from the vines on top. The rosy body was in the shape of a heart, and with each drip excreted from the center, it seemed to pulsate in her grasp.

Noticing my gaze upon her hand, Maybelle smiled, bringing the fruit to her pale, glossy lips. “Do you wanna try some?” She whispered sleepily, her tongue rolling out of her mouth as she lapped up a droplet leaking out the tip. “It’s really good~”

As she pulled her head back, a wet and thin strand of nectar fell from her bottom lip, connecting her to the fruit as she licked the saliva off her lips.

She giggled. “It’s a bit sticky though.”

A few things were running through my mind at this point: the first, was that I knew this was definitely a prisoner fruit. Naturally, this meant bad news. Did she really expect that I’d fall for such an obvious trick? Was she counting on my relative ignorance? Probably, but for now, I suppose I’ll humor her.

“Thanks for the prisoner fruit, May.” I chuckled, watching the color leave her face. “I was feeling a bit peckish.”

“I-I, um…” She mumbled, trailing off as her normally pale face began to grow flustered with the red tinge of shame. “I-I...you, uh…”

I looked her straight in the eyes, and, pausing for dramatic effect, opened my mouth, and took a bite.

A couple of things I’d like to mention. First, the pulp in this thing was sweet, real sweet. The texture, although not unpleasant, was like opening up a bag of sugar and stuffing it into your mouth, munching on the granules as you mixed it in with water. Second, I didn’t feel any different. There wasn’t any tension rising up within me, I didn’t have the sudden urge to get freaky with the sheepy, and I still had my wit prancing around about me.

All in all, six out of ten, might eat some later if I felt like it.

“You know, May,” I began, plopping down on the grass next to her. “I really thought you weren’t gonna try anything. You’ve been showing such restraint over the past few days that, hell, I thought you were not like other monsters.”

I sighed.

“You wanna explain yourself?”

Maybelle stared up at me with half-lidded eyes. Even now, she was struggling to stay awake, swaying on her hooves as she reached out and gingerly grabbed my wrist.

“I've gotten so fluffy and hot and sleepy.” She whimpered, her thumb brushing against my skin. “I thought we had gotten close, and I know you sometimes travel by here, but each time I asked, you were never very receptive to the idea.”

The lamb shifted her grip to my shoulder before softly placing her hand against my chest.

“Please,” She whispered, her fluffy wool gracing over my naked flesh. “Give me some release~”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked again, closing my visor. Despite the magical properties of her coat, the thick leather jacket I was wearing provided me ample protection. Either that, or I was immune.

I was taking my chances on the latter.

Maybelle smiled, rubbing a hand down her pale, glistening stomach.

The humidity was unkind to her.

“Shear me.” She whispered. “Expose my naked body to the sun.”

Woah. Quite the request.

“You know what that’ll do, May.” I replied, placing my hands on my hips. “I know what you were trying to do to me.”

All of a sudden she huffed, and, turning on her hoof, promptly marched over to her basket and yanked the covering off. In less than a second, she withdrew some handheld blades from the container, facing back to me as she stomped to my position.

“You silly, inconsiderate man!” She pouted, thrusting the shears into my chest.

Handles first, of course.

“You are going to strip me down, right…” Her eyes drooped as she began to stumble forward, her body pressing into me. “Right...now.”

Finally, she fell into my arms, quiet snores emitting from her as the shears fell to the dirt.

“Damn,” I muttered to myself. “I really gotta stop having close encounters. I mean, I seriously have to address my survival skills.”

Dropping her unceremoniously into the grassy field, I reached for my buckets, and with a grunt, carried them off into the horizon.  
\---


	15. 15

Chapter 15

\--

 

“Now, let me tell you about Lagoan cuisine.” Ciro began, his back towards me as he chopped up some unfamiliar herb on the kitchen counter. “We are a people with a refined taste. We like enjoy boldness, spice, the tanginess…”

The Doctor lifted up his cutting board, sliding the blade along the surface as he dropped the leafy greens into an iron pot. “Cooking is a necessity for survival, but that doesn’t mean you have to eat berries out in the woods or, for some godforsaken reason, start munching on demon fruit.”

“Hey, Ciro.” I said, leaning back into my chair. “Come on, she came onto me.”

“And you respond by playing around with your supposed immunity?” The Good Doctor retorted, turning back around and withdrawing some jars from the cupboard. “We don’t know for certain whether or not you are truly unlike any other human on this world. What if some things do affect you?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’ll find yourself copulating with a demon sooner than you can say: ‘I’m an idiot.’”

“Fair enough.” I conceded, drumming my fingers on the table. “What are you making anyway?”

“Oh this?” Ciro gestured to the pot. “It’s a traditional Lagoan dish; Mushino. I won’t explain all of the ingredients or the cooking process, but I will tell you that it’s more or less a fancy mushroom soup.”

“Sounds good.” I stated, nodding my head. Continuing to rap my knuckles against the hardwood of the table, I noticed that I was still wearing the gauntlet. Naturally not wanting it on any longer than it had to be, I glanced at Ciro. “How do I get this thing off again?”

“You simply pull it off, since it’s not in blood siphoning mode.” The Scientist replied. “I’ve taken precautions so that you don’t undergo that hellish experience again.”

Sure enough, a quick yank at the wrist pried the thing off, and I found myself clenching my now uncovered hand with newly found fascination. “No marks. You’re right, Doc.”

“Of course I am.” Ciro chuckled, now stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. “I haven’t told you anything I was unsure of myself-”

Three soft knocks on the door interrupted our conversation, my body tensing up as I warily glanced towards the entrance of the house.

I couldn’t tell what Ciro was thinking, nor could I necessarily read his facial expression due to his mask. However, if his stance said anything, he didn’t appear to be worried in the slightest.

“I wonder who that could be?” The Good Doctor murmured, resting the soup down on the counter as he wiped off his hands. “Visitors usually come by in the day, this is indeed a first!”

“You sound a bit too excited, Doc.” I groaned, interlacing my fingers and leaning forward. “What if it’s a murderer or something?”

“Such an active imagination.” He replied, walking over towards the door. “You tend to get yourself worked up over nothing, I am starting to notice.”

Reaching towards the knob, the Good Doctor glanced back towards me, dipping his head low and placing a hand against his chest as if trying to ‘reassure’ me in some small way. In that regard, I suppose it was mildly effective. After all, who had the courage to stroll on up to a Hero’s house in the middle of the night?

And, when the door swung open, I felt the tension leave my body. Looking over Ciro’s shoulder, I could see that it wasn’t a monster that had been knocking, neither was it a glowing and screeching suit of armor. Rather, it was a woman, standing there in the doorway as the sound of evening wind and chirping crickets followed behind her.

She stood timidly underneath the wooden arches of the house, her midnight blue eyes shifting to Ciro as torchlight cast a faint glimmer over silken sepia locks. Her chest rose and fell with every soft inhalation she took, sun kissed skin peeking out from underneath her sanguine cloak. And as she parted her reddish and thin lips to speak, I couldn’t help but notice that despite her modest attire, it didn’t exactly cover up her ample bosom. It strained against the buttons of her top, a few already loose with a handful of other threatening to pop off at any moment.

Finding it rude to stare, I lightly shook my head, and listened to her words.

“Good evening, Sir Cardone.” She spoke softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m told that you’ve been expecting me.”

Her voice was as smooth of silk, accentuated with a sort of drawl I couldn’t exactly specify. Yet, I found her tone to be pleasing, as I found that with each word that came out of her mouth sounded like a breathless whisper, dwindling down into a gentle kind of purr that simply tantalized my ears with an auditory massage.

It was right around this point that I noticed something quite prevalent: all the women I had met thus far, whether they were human or monster, possessed a sort of uncanningly beautiful visage. They didn’t suffer from worldly deformities, from what I could see. Rather, their skin lacked any sort of blemish or imperfection.

Faces that were perfectly symmetrical, not a single flaw to be found, and outlines around every one of them. I was left with two feelings that bubbled up inside me. One was an ache of wanton lust and desire, with the other serving no other purpose than further reminding me of my loneliness. That, when it came down to it, I was fundamentally different from them. I was the outlier, the stranger who didn’t belong. Yet, to them I must’ve seemed perfectly natural. However, no matter how you looked at it, it was a damn shame that I had to end up in fantasy land to get attractive women to look at me.

But it wasn't simply because of that. This want wasn't genuine, or at the very least it felt phony to me. They… they didn't look like me! I didn't even look like me! For fucksake, I had outlines! This wasn't normal. How could it be normal?

How could it be...

Ciro, unfazed, merely chuckled, extending his hand towards the woman as he replied. “Of course, of course! Please come in, we have much to discuss about our mutual friend.”

“What about him?” She interjected, pointing a slender finger towards me. “From what I heard in the report, you live alone.”

“Ah,” Ciro waved at me. “This young man is of no threat to us or our mission. I assure you, he will respect our privacy and treat the matter with utmost confidentiality.”

The Lady huffed, placing a hand on her hip as she narrowed her eyes. “If you believe it to be a wise decision, sir.”

“That I do. Now come, take a seat. I was just preparing dinner for this evening why don't you join us and relax. God knows we need it these days.” The Good Doctor gestured for her to take a seat, promptly bowing before slinking off into the corner of the kitchen, effectively leaving the two of us alone.

The seconds seem to drag on for ages, and we found ourselves staring at each other for the longest time before I suddenly decided to break the ice.

“So,” I began, “You're a friend of Ciro?”

She blinked, circling her fingers on the wooden table as she continued to look at me.

“In a sense.” Came the short reply.

“Neat.” I said simply, crossing my arms. “What have you been up to lately?”

The Woman sighed, rapping her nails against her thigh. “You ask many questions, stranger. I'm beginning to wonder what hole our Hero dug you up from.”

Oh, if you only knew.

“I wish I knew that myself,” I grinned. “The Doctor doesn't tell me anything outside of how to protect my balls better.”

“Balls?” She parroted, raising an eyebrow. “I'm not sure I follow.”

“You know, nuts.”

“Nuts? Is Sir Cardone raiding your almond supply? I know they grow sparingly down these parts.”

“What? No!” I shook my head, massaging my temples as I tried to figure out a proper explanation.

“Ciro-”

“I've been kicking him in the testicles repeatedly during our training sessions in order to correct his poor form and stance.” Ciro interjected from the counter, stirring an iron pot with a wooden ladle. “He's a swift learner, however, though he can be a reluctant student at times.”

“Yeah, thanks bud.” I sighed, sinking down into my chair.

I could see a faint smile beginning to form in the corners of her mouth, her eyes beginning to glisten mirthfully as she suppressed a giggle.

“If I don't laugh then I'm going to cry.” She admitted, placing a hand underneath her chin. “It's so sad when I see a young man such as yourself in pain.”

“There are worse pains.” I shrugged. “But yeah, I don't consider myself a fan of his teaching methods.”

“Fan?” She asked again.

“Admirer.” I groaned.

“Now, now, less talking and more eating!” Ciro chirped, finally bringing over the boiling and steaming pot of mushroom soup over to the table.

“Smells delicious, Hero.” I complimented, raising my bowl. “Do you make this often?”

“Only for special occasions.” Ciro nodded, dipping the ladle into the pot and giving me a healthy amount of broth. “I do hope you enjoy it, my mother showed me how to make it when I was but a child.”

Raising a spoon to my lips, I took an experimental sip, my eyes widening in surprise as I smacked my lips. “Woah, Doc. This is tasty as fuck, bro!”

I turned to the Lady. “You gotta try some of this, the taste will blow your mind!”

“Blow my mi-”

A thunderous shot rang out throughout the room as my vision was abruptly obscured with smoke, the sudden smell of sulphur and gunpowder burning my lungs and stinging my eyes.

Through the tears, I blinked, looking around in a daze as my mind races to process just what the hell had happened.

Through ringing ears I could hear Ciro, all the emotion removed from his voice.

“Bon Appetit.” He droned, lowering the flintlock in his grasp down to his side. The Doctor raised a hand to his face, sliding a thumb across an eyepiece of his mask as he wiped off the flecks of blood and graymatter that had accumulated upon it.

The taste of blood that was not my own lingered bitterly in my mouth, causing me to gag as I shot up from my seat.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Doc! What the fucking fuck, man? Holy shit!” I screamed, clutching my head and taking a step back from the table. The sight before me caused a knot to form in my stomach, and it took all of my willpower not to throw up right then and there.

The body was slumped over the table, a crimson pool forming underneath it. Muscles twitched and spasmed briefly, sticky blood and other bodily fluids pumping from the open wound in her head. Skull fragments speckled the table in a bloodied ivory white collab, intermingling with the rest of the viscera scattered across the room.

“Doc…” I groaned. “What the FUCK is going on! What did you do?”

Ciro slowly cocked his head to the side, turning towards me as he placed a finger underneath his beak.

“My job.” He uttered. “Though I do suppose explanations are in order.”

He paused.

“Would you like something else to eat?”

I didn't know what to say that. Things had gone from zero to a million real fucking fast. This murderer just Ventilates someone's cranium during dinner, and here he was, asking me if I would like something else.

So, I did the only thing I could.

I puked.


	16. 16

Chapter 16

It was quiet for the longest time after that sudden moment of visceral brutality. And, for the moment at hand, all I managed to do was sit myself back down in my seat, trying my damnest not to look at the body.

Ciro stared at me, his gaze unwavering.

“Forgive me.” He said ultimately, glancing down at his pistol before burying it back underneath his dusky robes. “I acted without notifying you first, but the call to act often trumps the necessity of informing others.”

“Why are you apologizing?” I mumbled, sniffling loudly as I wiped my mouth. “You saw something I didn’t, I’m not the kind of guy to judge what you do.”

I closed my eyes, placing a hand over my forehead and resting my elbows on the table. “Just…” I murmured, “What prompted this, Doc? She looked human enough.”

The Hero simply sighed, shuffling over to the body as he tightened his gloves. “It was quite beautiful.” He began, gripping the corpse’s shoulder and giving it a solid push forward. The body smacked audibly against the table, falling upon the wooden structure with a sickening squelch. “From the moment this thing walked into my domain, I perceived that something wasn’t right with her.”

He reached forward and clutched a handful of the ex-living monster’s hair, pulling it back. Understandably, I was uneasy of what exactly my mentor was going to do to it. After all, he switched from killing mode to analytical real fast.

“Look at the ridge of her forehead, young man.” The Doctor commanded me, parting her blood matted bangs and revealing a pair of rigid looking nubs. “The beginning of horns, you see.” He unceremoniously let go of her hair, her face falling back into the brain slushie on the table.

“I do not know how she was turned, or the reason of her journey to my hut.” He continued. “But I am well aware of this: the demons and their ilk are getting more cunning. Yet, with enough willpower and dedication, anyone can see through their vile illusions.”

The Hero reached towards his chest, revealing the wooden cross he had shown me earlier. The gems around her were pulsating a vivid red, basking his entire torso in a sanguine gloom. “My necklace allowed me to recognize her as a threat. Yet, seeing as females tend to pick up any ambient Demonic Energy from their surroundings, I didn’t want to make assumptions.”

He paused. “But, when she implied that she was a sort of courier for the Order, well, that only confirmed my initial suspicions.” 

“And just how did she imply that, Ciro?” said I with a frown. “Tell me.”

The Good Doctor looked at me, and although I couldn’t see his face, I could sense his attitude to darken slightly.

“Our mutual friend,” He told me flatly. “Is His Eminence, Cardinal Gerald of Kolthen. His jurisdiction is derived from the leader of the Order, themselves.”

He dipped his head. “We have been in correspondence for the past few weeks, during of which I told him about you and your condition.”

“What!” I growled, slamming my fist on the table. “Ciro, why the hell would you do that?! You know what they might do to me!”

The Good Doctor shook his head, pointing to me and replying. “I do not believe you have to worry yourself about us. We must, however, draw concern to whom was actually receiving the messages. The courier is always a man, which must mean that they have been intercepted and have otherwise been indisposed.”

“What does that entail for me?” I asked, biting my lip.

“Someone other than the Cardinal has been receiving my letters. And, upon seeing the messenger that this individual has replaced in the former’s stead, it can only mean one thing.” The Hero turned to me, and, looking me dead in the eye, continued. “I believe that the Demon Lord is now aware of your presence.”

It would be an understatement if I said at that moment my heart had stopped. There’s a certain kind of pain that rushes into you when you realize that something really bad had just happened, as if it was your body’s way of preparing you for the inevitable clusterfuck that was about to occur. It served no other purpose than to make me want to dig a hole in the ground so that I could bury myself and hide from the world.

“Well,” I began, parting my mouth to speak but failing to find the words. “Shit.”

“Young man,” Ciro began, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Leave the body, we must move with haste.”

Part of me wanted to know just what the Old Guy was up to, the other, in its tentativeness, just wanted to comply.

“W-Why?” I asked.

“No time for questions, child! We have to get out of here at once, before any more of them arrive. If we are compromised, then who knows what lengths that all powerful whore will go to to get her claws on you!”

His grip tightened.

“So you’re saying-” I started, promptly being cut off.

“This entire province could undergo another massive conversion event!”

“What?” I blubbered, “You mean another Lescatie? I can’t be that important-”

“How do you know about that?” Ciro asked, shaking me. Suddenly, he paused, sighing and cocking his head to side. “No, save it for later. There is no time to waste. Pack up your things, we are leaving tonight. It will be a long journey to the docks, a hundred miles at least.”

Fuck, in fantasy land, I could see that being a couple days. I didn’t have anything to pack, really; Nothing but the clothes on my back and some spares Ciro gave me. As for the Good Doctor, I didn’t know how he was going to get his shit together.

“I have an idea, Doc.” I turned to him, rubbing my chin thoughtfully as I continued. “If we need to get somewhere fast and ASAP, then I could manage it. However, you’d have to limit yourself to a backpack at least.”

Ciro stood still, the long tunic he wore swaying in the breeze coming in through the open doorway. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but I assumed he must’ve been thinking it over, at least.

“I..” He began, “I could probably manage that, give the proper storage scrolls and time. An hour or two at most.”

I nodded. “Take as long as you need.”

He glanced over his shoulder, nodding to me. “I know what you are suggesting, and I hate you because of it.”

Looking around, I felt my lips contorting into a grimace as the night seemed to encroach inside this little building of ours; I smiled at his comment.

“We aren’t expecting any more visitors tonight, right?”

The Scientist briskly walked over to the entryway, and pausing, simply uttered. “No.”

 

\--

“By all that is holy and dear on this world,” Ciro screamed in my ear, gripping onto my jacket for dear life. “Slow down!”

His plea fell on deaf ears, and I found myself throttling my old friend forward. God, how I missed it. The vibration of a roaring engine beneath my legs, the viridescent flashes of trees as they whipped by at blinding speeds, the comforting sapphire gloom of the dashboard reflecting off my visor…

It felt amazing; riding once more, my only attachment to the world I had left behind. I loosened my grip up on the throttle, the spotlights of my bike illuminating the earthen path before me. There would be time for joy riding later; I’d hate to break my neck by going over some shitty medieval equivalent of a pothole. I watched as the arrow on the mileage trickled down before leveling off at a healthy forty miles per hour.

At this, I felt the Hero’s grip loosen significantly, a resounding sigh echoing into the air through his beaked mask. “Oh, so you finally listen for once. What were you trying to accomplish going that fast? To injure yourself again, I assume?”

“Not really.” I muttered, glancing back. “Just a little revenge for the times you smashed your foot against my family jewels.”

Ciro fell silent at that, gazing off into the distance. Turning around, I focused my attention back on the road.

Needless to say, he had managed to fix it. If I should say, he did a pretty good job; not any guy could just pick up and look at a interdimensional object and start fixing it. I’d chalk it up to sheer luck if I didn’t know any better. Regardless, I could still feel the fear deep inside me. There was something strange about it; I just couldn’t describe it. Perhaps ‘marked,’ would be appropriate.

I shuddered.

Fuck, even the word terrified me. Call me a pussy, but I didn’t like to be followed or stalked. Not to say someone was doing that, but you can never be too sure.

“Ciro, do you know where we are going?” I asked, nudging him with my elbow.

“The port town of Nolenica is straight down this path,” The Good Doctor replied, holding his hat down on his head. “At the current pace, we should arrive there in a few hours. I must say, this is the fastest mount I’ve ever been on.”

I nodded. “You’d be surprised how fast this baby can go, the max speed on this thing is around two hundred miles per hour.”

“My word!” He exclaimed. “That is extremely swift! I don’t see the reason why you’d ever have to go that fast, however. Even when riding horses, I tend to know that accidents happen when the beast is moving its quickest!”

“True,” I replied. “Which is why I’m keeping a steady pace. If we want to reach the docks by this evening, I’ll have to speed it up a little. Speaking of which, what’s the plan when we finally reach our destination? Do you have someone you can talk to?”

“I know a man.” Ciro stated.

“Then I look forward to meeting him. The sooner we’re off this road the better. I’m not sure how many monsters are up and about this late at night, but seeing as we are right next to a creepy as hell forest, I’d rather not take my chances.”

“Fair enough, young man. Although the chances of us encountering bandits or possessed are significantly low as well, there is no doubt in my mind that there is still a possibility.” He coughed. “The world is a very dangerous place.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Doc. I’ve lived through some crazy shit over the past few weeks. Damn, I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for you.” I glanced behind my shoulder. “Thanks, Doc. You’re a hero in my eyes, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Don’t butter me up, you ruffian.” Ciro chuckled, slapping my back. “I may be retired, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get back into the good fight if I so desire. I still got it.”

“No doubt, Sir.” I said with a smirk. “No doubt.”

We rode over the grassy knolls and dirt roads through a good portion of the night, occasionally stopping to stretch our legs, and in Ciro’s case, rub his ass.

“How do you get used to this?” He inquired of me, patting his buttocks with a gloved hand as he stretched his back.

“It’s simple.” I replied, leaning up against a cobblestone wall off on the side of the road. “You don’t.”

The crickets chirped loudly all around us, and a gentle summer breeze brushed past my cheeks in the opened up gap of my visor. There was a smell of rosemary and lilac drifting amidst the warm, humid air, budding from a location unseen to me. And underneath that vast star-speckled blanket of the sky, I saw streaks of gold flashing against the dark canvas, shooting across into parts unknown in that rolling cosmos.

“You ever take the time to look up, Doc?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Just to think about life and stuff?”

Ciro paused, noticing the direction of my gaze. Strolling up next to me, he hoisted himself on the wall, sitting down and staring upwards. “Not as often as I’d like, I should say.” He began, looking towards me. “Why do you ask? Do you feel a sort of nostalgia?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “I suppose I do.”

I turned to him. “Hey, do you think there’s more up there than us? Like, up in the clouds?”

“You mean heaven?” Ciro asked flatly, clasping his hands together. “No man can reach it. It’s closed off for us.”

I sighed. “Back in my world, we went to the moon. There’s so much stuff out there, Doc. I wish I could tell you all of it. But there are some similarities, like your religion.”

“You follow the Chief God in your world, young man?” Ciro asked incredulously, leaning forward.

“Nah, but we use the same symbol.” I gestured to the bejeweled cross that dangled loosely from his neck. “And just like in this place, people would die for it. Wars and strife, death for belief and faith conquering fear…”

I trailed off. “We’re more alike than you think, I’d reckon. You’d like Earth.”

“Earth?” The Good Doctor, repeated.

“Let’s get back on the road, Doc. I’ll tell you at the docks later, when we both aren’t running to save the planet.”

Ciro raised a finger, but fell silent just as quickly. I could he was curious, the way he fidgeted around and how often he glanced at me. Yet, he was respectful about it. The Lagoan was alright in my book; I’d like to see his country sometime. Part of me thought it was a Little Italy in Fantasy Land.

Probably wasn’t by a long shot.

Either way, it couldn’t be long now. There was boat to catch; this Cardinal better be worth it.


	17. 17

/N: Thanks for reading, guys! I hope you're liking it so far. As always, thanks Fission Battery 

 

\-------

Chapter 17 Interlude

The moon hung in the sky like a fiery sphere frothing over with blood, its ominous gloom leaking through the amethyst skies and showering Lescatie Castle’s uppermost balcony with a luminous shade of pink. The lustful cries and pleasure filled moans from below resounded throughout the air like a fog, the smell of debauchery thick and sultry as it hung in the atmosphere. Overlooking town square was a balcony upon which a table made of demon silver and tainted wood sat, varnished into an ebony black shade that reflected the abnormal light perfectly off the edges.

And it was at this table where she sat, her misty rose legs crossed as she stared out into the mauve horizon of a dying day. It had been a long day filled with indulgence, so much so, when she finally got time to settle down and retire for the evening, she often came to this place to sate herself some more. It was because of this that some might’ve said, Druella, Fourth Princess of the Demon Realm and Mistress of Lescatie, was never satisfied. And truly, she would wholeheartedly agree with the presumptuousness of her critics. After all, she was, at heart, a hedonistic creature filled with want.

“My,” She began, her sultry voice dripping with heat and desire. “No one had told me that watching over a kingdom would be this hard.”

With a sigh, she closed her eyes, twirling the straps of her translucent night dress idly before glancing to her side. Resting upon the table was a silver cocktail glass filled to the brim with alraune nectar, a golden streak of the stuff oozing down the side. The Demon Princess had been nursing it for awhile, and although on any given day she would’ve finished it quickly, tonight was different.

Tonight she was filled with an emotion unlike any other, something she knew stemmed neither from sickness nor others.

On this night, the Mistress of Lescatie was lonely.

“I thought that it would work,” She whispered. “It had to have done something! Mother would never have been capable of doing such a feat with her inferior methods.”

She stood up, placing a slender finger underneath her chin as she tucked away alabaster bangs behind a pointed ear. The solution to all of Mother’s problems, as well as her own, were hidden somewhere beneath the vast amounts of mana and experimental magic. She wouldn’t have brought it upon herself nor undertaken such a task if she didn’t believe that it couldn’t be accomplished.

Yet, earlier in the day, when she stood there before that mighty compendium of godly-forged magic, she felt such a desire roar up within her bosom that she hadn’t felt before since her conception. She could feel the power surging through the very fabric of reality, tearing up all of space and time with such desperation to find a summon; a man that could change everything.

And to reward her efforts, her invocations and demands for assistance, whatever higher power that listened to her seemed have simply chuckled and bestow upon her a measly painting of a male rather than one of flesh and bone.

She felt her own heated stare burning into the picture, the glossy surface of the image reflecting her red eyes burning in black sea of her sclera.

Druella felt her grip tightening around the corners of the picture, her long and slender hands crumpling up the edges before she ultimately relaxed.

Just who was this man in the mirror?

Such peculiar armor, a helmet with no slit to see out of; nothing but a glimpse from another world of a boy relishing a moment of victory, knelt against some strange looking steed and holding a tiny statue of cheap bronze.

“Hmph,” She scoffed, brushing a thumb against the image. “The questions I would ask you if you were here instead of this useless substitute of yours.”

“Mistress Druella!” Came some far off cry back in the interior of her chambers. “Mistress Druella!”

The sound of her door being opened reached her ears, her lips all of a sudden contorting into a hungry smile as she resumed her facade as debauched leader of the so called “Radical Faction.”

They called her an extremist, although she did prefer the term progressive. Either way, a compliment was a compliment.

“What is it, my sweet child?” The Princess of Demons whispered, the tone of her voice growing deeper and more motherly than before. “Do you have something you wish to discuss?”

Before her stood one of her followers, a cute little Devil by the name of Zolisia. The tail between her legs swished back and forth like an excited little puppy, her petite blue body heaving with every breath, whether or not this was caused by exertion or desire Druella did not know. Her batwings fluttered rapidly from the sides of her head, and when she grinned, a tiny oversized fangs protrude from her upper lip.

The Princess could mush over her little messenger all day, but something must’ve been important for her to barge in.

“Yes I do, Mistress Druella!” Zolisia chirped, her wings moving up and down rapidly as she held up a scroll within her gloved hands. “You’re going to love what’s in here, Mistress! We’ve been gathering information on this cutie for weeks!”

“Oh?” Druella hummed, a little smile gracing her soft features as she licked her lips. “Let us find out then, my love.”

Unfurling the message, she began to read aloud.

 

To Our Most Lovely and Powerful Mistress,

The Network which you have requested to be expanded beyond current borders had succeeded. Our cells now extend from Zipangu to across the seas from the mainland. We are still working on the Mist Continent though, hehe~

Anyway, there is something that demands your attention. One of our deep rooted informants in the province of Lucio under Jalichian Banners has reported something of interest. For the past few days, she has noticed a person that frequents across the roads between Bleakborn and Autumn’s Peak, wearing the exact same outfit in which you have described to us. We have been on the lookout for the past few days, and have been spying upon this man for many nights.

Needless to say, the Hero inside seems to be shielding in from something, which may confirm your suspicions that the Order has something they want to keep from you. Yet, we both know that a powerful daughter of the Demon Lord always gets what she wants, ufufu~

We will keep you updated as the situation unfolds, and if it’s any of intrigue to you, Mistress,

This male appears to be excellent partner material, as unlike most he is relatively physically fit despite his outwards oafishness. 

Hugs and Kisses,

Irine D’Olahue

 

And in that moment, Druella, Fourth Princess of the Demon Realm and Conqueror of Lescatie, smiled.

“Zolisia,” She began, turning to her little companion with a toothy grin. “Be a sweetie go and get Geraldine for me? I have a mission for her.”

“Ohh,” The little devil exclaimed in excitement, “If you’re getting her then it must be real important! Awright, Mistress! You can count on me, hehe!”

And with that, the little demon all but flew out the doorway, disappearing deeper into the winding and darkened corridors of the castle.

Druella, now alone once more, felt invigorated by the report. Strutting back onto the balcony, she unfurled her massive ivory wings and gazed up into the glistening moon above. A breeze brushed past her smooth cheeks, causing her hair to sway along with current. The sigil etched on her bangs flickered and pulsed, growing into deeper shades of red as the pleasure runes all over her skin darkened and glowed all at once. She felt a new sense of might coursing through her veins, her soul replenished with wondrous vigor and demonic spirit.

Her entire form flashed briefly, and as the shine faded she stood on the railings of the balcony, now clad ornate garments swaddled her lithe and shapely body. With a mere flick of her wrist, glowing red eyes cracked open all around her armor, shifting their unwavering gaze all around. No matter where you looked, her boots, her horns, her gloves, or hips…

Druella would always be staring right back.

“I believe it is time I relocate.” She whispered into the air, a boiling ball of oozing black ink forming in the palm of her hand as she coaxed her ringlet clad middle finger upwards. Stroking it thoughtfully, she watched as the eye formed and took shape upon it, the velvet glimmer casting her features in dull light.

Holding up the image once more, she gazed upon it with renewed interest and barely restrained lust. Blood riled up inside her, she could hear her own heart beating rapidly in her chest, her bosom rising and falling with each excited breath.

“Oh~” She murmured, caressing her thigh. “I look forward to meeting you, my little morsel.”

With those words, she fell forward, gliding off into the lustful night.


	18. 18

A/N: Eat, sleep, write, repeat.

\--  
Chapter 18

 

The rising sun peeked above the flattened hilltops of Nolenica’s farm fields, where the grassy knolls and meadows of unformed land became civilized and cultivated with the agricultural methods of irrigation and debridement. The warm dawn felt pleasant on the skin of my wrists, filling me with a sense of rebirth and refreshment as our drive came to an end. Coming down to a slow crawl, I placed my boots against the ground, waddling with the bike underneath me before taking the key out of the ignition.

“Hey.” I began, shifting my shoulders back and giving the dozing doctor a slight nudge. “We’re here.”

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes, now I remember.” Ciro grumbled, giving me a pat on the back. “Good job getting us here, young man. Although I’m having trouble feeling any sort of sensation in my buttocks, we made it here in one piece.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “The seat’s uncomfortable as all hell, Hero. You get used to it, though.”

A blatant lie; I’d lost count of how many times I needed to get off the thing to massage my ass.

“Alright, now where are we?” The Good Doctor mumbled, rummaging through his leather bag as he searched for his map. “Ah! Here we go.”

He placed a gloved finger upon the parchment, tracing an invisible path along the edges whilst glancing up occasionally as if to map it out in his head. “Right, so according to this, we are on the village outskirts of the harbor city. Two more miles upwards is the gate, I suggest we walk from here on out.”

What.

“Walk?” I repeated, “Why the hell would I do that, Doc? Don’t you know that’d be a massive pain in the back to do? Pushing this thing along ain’t easy, you know.” I gripped the handles of the motorcycle and gave it a brief shake to further my point.

“On the contrary,” The Scientist replied, “I’ve been testing out a solution for ease of transport. Despite it being fast and able to cross large distances in a short amount of time, it’s rather…” He looked at me. “Cumbersome.”

“And pray tell, what is your solution to this unkind problem?” I sighed, crossing my arms.

The Good Doctor shifted forward, squatting as he reached underneath the bike with both hands. And, with a mighty heave, he proceeded to lift it over his head and tuck it in the small of his neck.

“Alright, young man.” He guffawed. “Let us go.”

“Your grand test for transporting the thing is just you carrying it?” I asked, feeling my own exasperation well up inside me.

“Yes.” Came the curt reply.

Okay then.

\---

We walked the final stretch in relative silence, the sound of waves lapping against the rocks echoing off in the distance, the salty breeze carrying the noise off into parts unknown. As I shuffled through the rolling dunes of a pebbly strand, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander.

Did I enjoy long walks on the beach?

No.

Did I love the smell of the ocean?

Hell to the fuck no.

So why was I thinking about it so much? Dirt had turned into sand quickly, and pretty soon I was lamenting on how my feet seemed to slide with every step I took. Jesus, I hope I didn’t have a sandbox in my shoe by the end of this.

Meanwhile, Ciro was practically strolling right next to me. A bounce in his step, a muffled tune coming from the depths of his mask, some kind of song he liked to sing from time to time, I noticed.

It wasn't like anything I’d ever heard before, but as long as it didn't lead me to another goat lady, I'd be fine.

"So, what's the plan anyway?" I finally said, turning to the Doctor as we walked side by side. "I mean, the guards are probably going to wonder what it is in fact you are carrying, right?"

Ciro could only chuckle.

"There you go again, getting yourself worried over matters too insignificant to pose any impediment to our progress."

"It's a genuine concern." I frowned.

"Right, please accept my apologies." He replied, his voice filled with mirth. "I do declare, it's not like you're traveling with a hero."

He paused.

"And I still see you are wearing your Medal of Valor, excellent. That further proves you are legitimate." He noted, point his beak at my chest.

Well, he had a point.

Not long after he said that did we come to a point in which the road gave way an entrance into some sleeply hamlet, the main path branching off into individual sections in which straw-roofed huts made of hardened mud humbly stood. Not a soul seemed to stir within the tiny residential, the cause of which I could only amount to most of them being fishermen who would've already left before the sun rose.

"It's peaceful." I noted, shoving my hands into the front pockets of my jacket.

"Quaint indeed." Ciro replied, continuing forward.

Huh, I guess someone didn't like to take in the sights. Oh well, more eye candy for me.

A flicker of light on the ground caught my eye, after which I paused and knelt down on the sandy floor.

I brushed into the loose grains of the shore, shifting through it until I found what I had been looking for.

A silver band, shimmering and engraved with thin etchings of seashells and collapsing waves glistened in the dawn's light as I held it in my grasp. I didn't know what it was, or if it contained any sort of magical power. Yet, I was curious.

I raised my head and looked forward.

Ciro was soldiering on ahead of me, not even glancing behind his back to make sure if I was still alive.

"Love you too, buddy." I grumbled, tucking the band in my front pocket. Picking up the pace, I jogged onward to catch up. Afterall, shit tended to happen when I was left by myself.

"Hey, wait up!"

\-----

Nolenica was surprisingly smaller than what Ciro had implied; the place looked like an old Spanish fort rather than the citadel he suggested. However, it was indeed a far cry from Bleakborn. Where the latter only had wooden palisades and mounds of mud as its foremost defense, Nolenica had high stony walls. Where Bleakborn had barricades and crossbows, Nolenica had cannons and muskets.

And as I saw those barrels and muzzles turn to face us, I couldn't help but think that the people here were no different than the ones I had met before. That is to say, trigger happy as all hell.

We came to a stop at the gatehouse, armed men greeting us with stern stares and stony faces.

They dressed differently than those in Bleakborn. Rather than being clad from head to toe in steel plate and chainmail, they wore nothing but long red breeches tucked into black jackboots. A fulvous linen shirt dangled loosely off their forms underneath polished breastplates, lobster-tailed pot helms enveloping their heads as they held flintlock muskets in their gauntleted fists.

"Halt!" Rang out the cold command from the center of the guard gate.

Needless to say, we did so.

Out of the shade of the archway, a man sallied forth. Due to the bright red beret on his head, the revelation that he was the captain jostled my brain. And, much like Ciro had predicted, the Order's Sigil was fixated on his headwear, the cross shining brightly in sun.

If it was Order controlled, with Ciro being a hero, he had sway in more places than one.

"Hail, travelers." The Captain began, "What is the purpose of your visit to Fort Nolenica, port city under the jurisdiction of King Farland and his Holiness?"

Ciro merely stared at him, shrugging the bike free from his back before carefully setting it on the ground.

"Official business from the Bureau of Holy Knights, authorized under His Eminence Cardinal Gerald of Kolthen." The Good Doctor replied coolly, glancing towards me. "As you can see, an Honored One accompanies me" He gestured to my medal. "Surely you do not wish to keep a man of valor waiting?"

"It would be uncouth of me." The Captain nodded. "However, that doesn't mean I can let you in. Every person who enters and leaves through these gates must be recorded and registered in the books." He looked towards the motorcycle. "As well as with any contraptions or trade goods brought within the walls. I'm just doing my job, Hero. Military protocol hasn't changed in the past two centuries and it probably isn't going to anytime soon. Unless you have documentation proving as such, I'm going to have to ask for your consent to a full search and acquisition of your luggage for inspection."

Ciro began to twitch and shakily placed a hand against his mask. The words that came out of his words next didn't seem all that friendly.

"Let me put it into terms your addled brain can understand, Captain." He clenched his fists. "What if I told you that if we do not enter these gates and get on the nearest ship bound for Kolthen, then this entire province is going to be swarming with demons and things that go bump in the night."

The Captain simply crossed his arms. "Then I'd say you're being farfetched." He shook his head. "The request still stands; compliance is optional, but if you want entry, then you need consent."

The Good Doctor suddenly reached out and grabbed the guard by his collar, hoisting him up with one hand as a crackle of lightning began form in the other.

The other sentries began to raise their rifles, cocking back the hammers of their weapons as they pointed the muzzles at us.

"Now you listen to me, you imbecile." Ciro growled. "I am Ciro Cardone, Hero from the Lago Republic and Savior of Holando! You halt the operations of powers much, much greater than you. And, as a result, endanger your species to a mindless existence of endless copulation with monsters and false gods alike. Yet, you wish to stand there and lecture me on your guard procedure?"

His grip tightened. "I care not for the ways you do things here, Captain. And I certainly have no doubt that if I maim you I'd be acquitted. Shall you try my patience any longer? Think very carefully about your next words, Sir. I am not a very violent man, but I didn't become a Hero by not doing whatever it takes to accomplish the goals of the Church."

The Captain floundered and clutched at Ciro's wrist with both hands, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he finally extended an arm outwards. Frantically did he motion for his subordinates to lower their weapons, sweat trickling down his brow as he mumbled.

"S-Stop, stop! Men, lower your weapons, for God's sake!"

He offered the Good Doctor a weak grin. "The famous hero from the Lago Republic, correct? I-I've heard of you Sir. P-Please, it'd be an honor to have you in our city. Bring your friends and whatever other strange devices you wish to use to occupy your time."

Ciro promptly and unceremoniously dropped the Captain to the floor. "I'm glad to hear it, good man!"

Once again, he became giddy, stepping over the Leader as the guards parted ways to let him in.

I strode over to my bike, grabbing the handles and pushing it forwards.

What can I say? The City Watch looked extremely pissed off, and I wouldn't blame them. Fuck, I'd never seen the Doctor get mad before, but he was downright terrifying when he did.

And as we walked side by side through those massive walls, I could only look forward, a single thought flashing through my mind.

How bad were things going to get?


	19. The Docks

A/N: here you guys go!

\-----

 

Chapter 19: The Docks

“You didn’t have to do that, Ciro.” I grumbled, shoving my hands into my pockets. “What were you gettin’ all angry about, anyway? They just wanted to secure their city. It’s a respectable enough goal."

“Might I remind you that every second we waste now is another second that the worst could happen?” Ciro shot me a glance and shook his head. “We do not have ample time to dawdle and cater to the frivolous wishes of others while there is so much at stake. Do you know what kind of thing the Demon Lord will do to you if she truly knows about your ability?”

I shivered.

The Good Doctor had a point.

If the High Whore herself knew about me, well, it didn’t take an Einstein to figure out she’d find me in a matter of moments. What was more likely was that she’d be too lazy to do so, and send one of her daughters after me. I don’t mean to be full of myself, rather I’m being genuine when I say that I loathe being underneath any spotlight. Now, having all this attention and greatness thrust upon me; suffocation would be a better word to describe it.

What I really needed, however, was a nap. We’d left the house late at night, courtesy of Ciro deciding that a late dinner was exactly what we both needed after a long day of chores around the grounds, followed by me doing my training. Come to think of it, the Scientist told me that he knows a few folks, and that if I thought he was a tough trainer, the next guy in line would be as hellish as he could be.

I sighed. This was too much. Still they expected me to solve their problems, and I’ll admit it, it has distracted me from my main goal of getting home. But sometimes, certain things require more immediate attention. For example, finding refuge on an island with little to no monsters while I honed my skills would be nice. It’d prepare me for the inevitable quest they would know doubt cast me away to go on. Fuck, I just hope I wasn’t here too long. A month at most.

“The docks are just up ahead.” Ciro told me, snapping me out of my thoughts as my head turned straight.

If there’s one thing I’d notice, it was that the docks were much, much larger than the town itself. People must’ve not stayed here for long then, frequently moving from the harbor to reaches unknown, such was goal of business.

Stifling a yawn, I felt my body begin to grow sluggish with the weight of sleep. Guess it all settled back down to needing a good rest.

“Ciro,” I began. “When can I hit the hay?”

The Doctor looked at me, his eyes blinking behind the dark rimmed goggles of his mask. He craned his head back, and cocking his head, replied. “I am unfamiliar with that expression. There is sure to be some sort of straw you could aleve your frustrations on around somewhere.”

A sigh escaped me. “No, that’s not what-look.” I held a finger up. “Sleep, Doc. I’m exhausted.”

Ciro nodded. “I understand. I tend to forget that those unblessed require more rest than I do.” We continued to walk together, our footsteps thudding heavily against the dock. “Our journey is almost over.”

The words came out, but I didn't believe him. There was always somewhere to go, some place to be. One of these days, I would just like to lay down in bed and sleep time away. No Order, No Demon Lord, back in my own bed where I could grasp any sense of normality. Alas, such dreams hardly come true these days.

Bells rang out across the harbor as the waves lapped softly against the beams of the dock, and it was then that I saw some faint movement in the vast array of ships that bobbed in sync with the frothing sea. Creaking wood, wind chimes; faint sounds reached my ears, as if we were standing there while the city started to awaken. I didn’t know what Ciro had in mind at this point, and frankly I didn’t really care enough to ask. A follower, am I.

“There it is,” Ciro pointed in front of me, my eyes trailing the length of his arm before finally resting on what he wanted me to see. “Our ship.”

“My God…” I murmured, “It’s…”

Seeing a painting of a wooden ship is one thing, seeing it in person is another. Yet, a mere glance and I could already tell that this was no ordinary vessel. Never had I seen a ship as cerulean as the sea. Blue on blue, across that painted canvas above and below. Four mighty masts were fixated upon that wooden titan, its ivory sails rippling down like a waterfall. The railings were plated with iron and painted over with coat of gold. The stern of the ship was covered in a vast array of windows, etchings upon the ornate glass, like that of crystal. Vine-like designs swaddled the hull, flushed with silver markings that shone in the coming dawn. On the sides were rows and rows of port holes, to which I knew most likely hosted the vast array of cannons within. And unlike all the others, it dared not move, defiant against the sea. It did not float, I assumed; it stood on the ocean, unbowed.

“H.H.S. Francisca, the last ship of Lescatie.” Ciro said, nodding solemnly. “There’s a story behind this ship, one which I will tell you later if you’d like.”

I followed him as he made his way towards the ship, pushing my bike along. As I did so, the thought of me sinking beneath the waves graced my brain briefly, before was stifled as I all but smashed it into a dark crevice in the back of my mind. True, ships sunk. But what were the odds of that happening? It seem built solidly enough, crafted with sturdy materials and sound engineering. Nothing could go wrong, I was a survivalist afterall!

I slapped my forehead. No! How idiotic of me! That would be the exact line of thinking of a man who is about to be involved in something terrible! There was always the possibility that the worse could happen, so it would have been wise of me to take precautionary measures. I just didn’t know what measures to take. So, finding myself stuck, I bit my lip and soldiered on.

\--

Admiral Godfrey Fortsworth stood there on the pier, the flaxen epaulets of his uniform rustling in the harbor breeze. Adjusting his bicorne, he brushed back dark locks from his forehead, staring out into the bay with flint gray eyes. The rays of the sun glanced off the murky waters of Molly’s Marina, the reflection of the sea glistening off his cheeks as he folded his arms behind his back. He could feel it in his bones; today was going to be an interesting one. From the moment he rose from his quarters on the finest vessel in the Order, he was fully aware. Previously, when his polished boots set foot on the deck of the Francisca, he noted that there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. A red sun rose from the sea in the east; a common herald of an incoming storm or the like, but the wind wasn’t tinged with the comings of ill weather or poor omens. Everything was conflicting, and wasn’t sure which emotion to feel. Relief that they should make it to Kolthen within a week, or trepidation that the uncertain, was rather bound to -be- certain.

He resolved to dwell on the matter further when they finally set sail, opting to instead check on how the cargo doing as it was being loaded onto the boat.

“Easy with the crates, boys!” The Admiral barked, grimacing as one of his crew stumbled with a barrel full of grog.

“Aye, Admiral!” Came the cries of the sailors. “Apologies, Admiral!”

With a nod, he assured them that all was fine before walking over to his bo’sun.

“Horace.” He said, watching as the olive-skinned man turned to face him. “I want to be untied from port and riding the waves as soon as possible. Tell the crew to pick up the pace lest weather conditions decide to turn against us.”

“Aye, Admiral. I’ll tell tha’ boys to stop slackin’. Ain’t everyday we get such good sailin’ wetha, I’d say. Be proper quick ‘bout it, sir, you have my word.”

“Good man.” Godfrey said with a solemn nod. Albeit the ship being the most gorgeous thing this side of the continent, her crew was something else entirely. He’d make them learn, he was sure of it. Poseidon may have claimed her bounty with his lads’ bodies, but he would have his due soon enough. Such was mysterious ways of gods to man. Half of him wanted to believe in them, yet he often found that the part that told him that he was but a mere plaything won out more often than it should.

Not the Chief God; not them. The most awe-inspiring of them all; the only one that deserved to be worshipped. Too many times had he called out to Ares or Poseidon, only for his prayers to fall on deaf ears and his situation to get worse. How he cursed them, yet he would never slander their name aloud. Afterall, they could be listening.

“Admiral Fortsworth.” Came a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. If the Lagoan accent was any indication, he could’ve swore that it was…

“Hero Cardone!” He exclaimed, his lips curling up into a grin as he parted his arms. “You bloody ol’ rascal, you! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“The years tend to go by quite quickly when you keep busy.” Ciro chuckled, extending his arm and grasping the Admiral’s in a firm but friendly shake. “You haven’t changed in the slightest, old friend.”

“The same can apply to you! Are you still wearing that getup? Goodness me, and you even brought a friend!”

\----

I watched as the Admiral and the Good Doctor exchanged greetings, jibber jabbering away about things I had little interest in knowing about. Hell, I thought two old guys catching up was bad enough in my world, but it was sort of surprising to see the same thing here. Some things don’t change, I supposed. And I couldn’t blame them, I’d probably do the same if put in their shoes.

Heh.

I missed my friends.

However, I didn’t really want to think about it too much. After all, I’d be seeing them again eventually, right? It would be best to just focus on the task at hand.

The air suddenly got heavier, and mood shifted from one of nostalgia to one of serious concern.

“Admiral Fortsworth, I’m sure you know the reason of why I traveled all the way here on this particular day.”

“Aye,” The Admiral said, suppressing as sigh. “To think the network was supposed to be foolproof. What sort of recklessness could have compromised us this early into operations set up here?”

Ciro replied in a hushed whisper, his voice low as he leaned in. “I’ll be glad to tell you; onboard, rather, and not here.”

“Of course. I’ll have the men let you onboard and get you all settled in. In the meantime, is this the special package I’ve been hearing about.” Fortsworth gestured to me. “I must say, he seems a little on the short side to be the key to winning this war. It’s been going on for centuries, what’s to say that he won’t falter and fall by the wayside? Even with this…” He continued, pointing to the motorcycle. “Contraption of his?”

“I sense a great power within him.” Ciro replied. “He’ll help us, I’m sure of it.”

“For the future of mankind, Hero.” The Admiral continued, staring at me. “I hope you are right.”


	20. 20

A/N: Thanks for reading! 

\------------

Chapter 20 (Interlude)

Smoldering ruins crackled and crumbled in the place where Ciro Cardone's hut once stood. The sky rained down amber embers that drifted off into the breeze, filling the air with the thick and suffocating smell of smoke. Emerald grass which once coated the courtyard was now nothing more than brittle husks of yellow straw, matted with dirt and covered with ash. And as he watched his men rummage through the rubble, Commander Rowan Athalos could only clench his fists and let his eyes warily scan the gray horizon.

It didn’t make any sense, how a sizeable plot of land could be burnt to the ground overnight. This wasn’t like any fire he’d ever seen before. It was much to thorough, this scorched earth. Mr. Cardone was a hero, well versed in magic and alchemy alike. This could only mean one of two things: either there had been an accident, which Rowan himself knew was rather unlikely considering the person they were searching for, or this was a deliberate attempt to cover one’s tracks. Either way, both scenarios yielded unfavorable foresight.

“Nothing here, Captain!” One of his men called out from the wreckage.

Lovely, absolutely lovely.

“Keep looking!” The Captain ordered, placing a gauntlet on the pommel of his sword. “There’s something here, I can feel it in my bones.”

Looking back down at the blackened beams of the hut, he walked forward, crouching down and picking apart the charred wood piece by piece.

There had to be something; anything that could tell them where the two had wandered off would be useful, lifesaving even. He still remembered what Lord Bleakborn had said in his reply. How a mere three words could fill him with a sense of duty and purpose.

Bring him here.

It must have been important if his Lord wished to have the hero brought all the way up North, to Ulvria, a place where the land turned white and the earth became covered by an impenetrable layer of frost and ice.

Part of him envied Mister Cardone; the fact that one extraordinary man could change the face of war and history like it was an everyday occurrence, nothing more than a job that needed to be done, baffled him. Yet, he understood, or liked to think so, that it was probably the most lonely path one could take. Having a power and being something more than human, yet not having the capability to truly feel what it was like to be a simple and humble individual. Why the Hero decided to live in a hut in the middle of nowhere and not an estate, well, perhaps there was something more to the man than the Hero let on.

With a sigh, Athalos turned over a pile of fractured, charred splinters, brushing his hand over the ash before glancing to his side.

A limb jutted out from the rubble like a gnarled branch, curled inwards and burnt to a cinder. Flecks of bone shone in stark contrast to the saturated colors around it, making it easier for the Captain to eventually rise to his feet and shuffle over to it, stepping over debris as he passed.

Gazing down upon it, he felt his brows furrow. Was this the reason why they had left? Did Ciro Cardone become a murderer in the time he had left Bleakborn? It was highly implausible to think so, yet in turbulent times such as these, it was best to leave nothing out of the realm of possibility.

They would have to find them, and fast.

“Sir!” Came a shout from behind, “We’ve found something you may like to see.”

\---

Maybelle was terrified.

Last night she saw the smoke. The thick wafts of an ebony black haze billowing into the night sky, the orange gloom from a blazing fire still etched clearly in her mind. She feared the worst, knowing that the man who ran by her everyday lived nearby. She hadn’t seen him since the incident, a predicament which filled her with a sort of wanton guilt, a conflicting feeling that swelled up in her heart. Her body didn’t know whether to feel horny at the missed opportunity for indulgence, or regret for having taken advantage of his trust.

Such was the nature of a monster; one based on pure instinct and hedonistic urge. Yet even to herself, she realized that the only reasons for her actions were based out of love. A love in which humans saw as evil or sinister, to this end, she did not understand. But perhaps one day they would see, that accepting the worldly delights in which were delivered to them would set them free. How could anyone worship and praise such a hateful god?

Her hooves padded against the grass and daisies as she climbed over the hill to see what had occurred the previous evening, her lips quivering in trepidation as her eyes overlooked the remains of the hut in which the man had lived.

Oh no.

Was he dead? He couldn’t have...it had only been a few days…

“M-Mister…” She sniffled, feeling her eyes begin to moisten. “I hope you’re okay.”

A troop of around ten men came lumbering down the earthen path that led to the place, one of them pointing and shouting as the others rushed ahead. She watched with a mixture fascination and anxiousness as the armored soldiers began to rummage and search the area, quickly dipping her head low as a man more ornately clad glanced her way.

She couldn’t be seen, not this far into the Fields of Lucio. Most travelers or settlers had treated her kind with quiet disinterest, but not those who wore the green. Never them; she realized their allegiance from the moment she saw them.

Zero tolerance, they claimed. Frankly, she didn’t wish to find out.

She laid like that for awhile, quiet and still, hoping they would pass. The abrupt feeling of hands from behind being placed on her shoulders told her that she soon would regardless of her wishes.

She turned around, face to face with two of Bleakborn’s finest. They looked at her with hatred in their eyes, an emotion so fierce she felt as if it was practically burning into her. And although she couldn’t see their faces, she presumed that they were no doubt snarling and frothing at the mouth, eagerly wishing to do her harm.

“What do we got here?” One of them spat, his grip on her shoulders digging into her flesh harshly as she let loose an audible bleat of pain.

“Reckon she had something to do with this?” The other one growled, clenching his armored fists. “Wouldn’t put it past a monstrous bitch to ruin the lives o’ good folk.”

“Well,” The other one continued, reaching towards their side. “I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”

Maybelle felt her eyes widen in terror as she saw what the man had been grasping for. Sheathed on his side was a dagger, the blade glistening in the sunlight as it was relieved of its scabbard. They were going to cut her; slice her up and make her talk and beg and cry out for mercy! She wasn’t a bad girl, she was an innocent sheep! Honest!

“I’m gonna be lookin’ fo’ward ta this-” The Second one began, only to be interrupted as something solid soundly collided with the back of his head. His body fell forward, limply collapsing to the earth as his feet crumpled underneath him.

“What the bloody he-” Came the confused sentence of the first, their words too being cut short as another audible smack sent them careening into the dirt.

Maybelle risked cracking an eye open when the pain never came, instead watching as another pair of cloven hooves much like her own came to a rest in front of her.

“Are you alright?” A feminine voice, low and breathy spoke to her. Looking up, she felt her eyes widening as they rested upon her rescuer.

A Satyros stood before her, her chest heaving as she clutched a curvy and elaborately designed flute in her grasp. “My mother always told me that my music was able to lull boys to sleep.”

Eyes flicking towards her two downed interrogators, the sheep looked back up, feeling her eyes grow wet again as she stammered out her gratitude. “T-Thank you,” She all but sniffled. “I-I thought they were going t-to hurt me.” She wiped her eyes with her fluffy forearms and continued. “I’m Maybelle, t-thanks for saving me.”

The Goat Lady closed her eyes, leaning her head back as she let loose an audible sigh of relief. “You are lucky I was nearby, any later and I don’t know what they would have done to you.” She paused, extending a gloved hand towards her. “My name is Diana, it is most pleasurable to make your acquaintance. Although I wished it could have been under less…” She looked around. “Stressful circumstances. Men can be grossly misguided at times, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes.” Maybelle acknowledged, rubbing the horns on her head softly.

“What are you doing this far into Order territory, little one?” Diana chastised her gently, concern plastered on her face as she helped her to her feet. “Do you not realize that the humans around this area are intolerant of our kind?”

“I knew!” Maybelle huffed, keeping the tone of her voice low and pouting. “I was just trying to make sure my hus- friend was alright!”

“Oh?” Diana smirked. “And what is wrong with your friend that necessitates coming all the way out here?”

“I-I think his house burned down. I’m just making sure he is alright, b-but all these soldiers are down there looking through the rubble and I don’t see him!” The Sheep started to cry again, only stopping when the Satyros placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” She whispered, bringing the poofy monster in for a hug. “We will search for him and find him together. What did he look like?”

Maybelle could never forget a face like that; The way perspiration matted his short, brown hair- how it rolled down his rough, sun kissed cheeks that only accentuated the pearly white smile he gave her every time as he ran past. And, when they talked, she could only stare dreamily into his umber eyes and focus on his laconic manner of speech. Oh, how she wanted to press the cute little button nose in the center of his round face.

He was adorable, or so she liked to think. Memories of his appearance had been substituted when her mind was hazy; he was always wearing that accursed helmet too! How it blocked his thin, pale, kissable lips-

“Maybelle?” Diana began, raising an eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

It was at this point did the weresheep realize she had been cupping the sides of her face, her cheeks burning red as her stubby tail swished excitedly back and forth. When she realized, she looked away abashedly, folding her arms behind her back. “I’m alright. He looks like any other kinda guy, I think. He wears the strangest helmet I’ve ever laid eyes on, though.”

Diana paused, her lips curving downwards into a barely noticeable frown. “That sounds quite familiar, care to elaborate?”

“Oh yes!” Maybelle began, placing a finger under her chin as she recalled thoughtfully. “Well, it was black and covered his entire head! I didn’t see any eye slits or air holes, and the visor just looked like one solid piece of opaque glass.”

She paused when she noticed the Goat Woman was now visibly distressed, a vein bulging in the right corner of her forehead as she feigned calmness. Her alabaster gloves clenched tightly around her flute, her lips parting slightly to reveal her white teeth, grinding together with suppressed fury.

“Diana,” Maybelle began, her eyes softening as she placed her hands on the lady’s forearm. “Is something wrong?”

“You should tell me more.” Diana finally replied, giving Maybelle an unsettling smile. “But not here. Walk and talk with me, darling.”

And so they ran side by side, over the hills, into the meadows of a rising afternoon.

\----

A/N: One does not simply write a character for a single chapter and never have them appear again.


	21. 21

A/N: It's a little over a thousand words. It's a short chapter, but the next one will be longer, I promise. Tryin' to get ya'll something out tonight to whet your appetite. Thanks for reading! 

 

\----------------------------

 

Chapter 21

 

We walked along the deck of the H.H.S. Francisca, our feet thudding heavily against the solid flooring as Admiral Fortsworth rambled on about the specifications of the ship.

“This is one of our finest vessels in the entire fleet.” He exclaimed proudly, a smile plastered on his face as gestured all around him. “Seventy five metres long, it’s one of our larger ones. The four masts you see here have been enchanted to create a sort of self-propulsion! Isn’t magic wonderful? I say, I’d like you to find any other ship this size that can sail at a speed of nineteen knots! “

Sauntering up to one of the many iron-cast cannons that were fixated upon the deck, the Admiral chuckled, placing a hand upon and continuing. “As you can see, we are quite well off in terms of combat capability. Take this twenty pounder naval defense cannon; imagine one hundred and twenty four of these.” He gave it a light pat. “Four at the bow, eight at the stern, and fifty six in each broadside. As a result, we have three gun decks down below. This particular vessel also carries one of our test artillery pieces, but I doubt we’ll ever get to see it being used. The seas are quiet these days, take that as you will.”

I didn’t know much about ships or ordinance, but I knew a badass boat when I saw it. And, finally hearing all the nifty little things about this? Hell, it no doubt took the cake.

As the three of us continued on the tour, I couldn’t help but notice that there a lot of people on this raft. A plethora of pristine uniforms ran back and forth, to and fro, all of them looking busy with something or another. And I found myself surprised, considering that I my initial expectation would be something like a pirate. At this revelation, I was glad that we appeared to be in professional, and rather capable, hands.

“She possesses a crew of four hundred and fifty men, a hundred and fifty of which are Marines, equipped and specialized from sea to land warfare.” Admiral Fortsworth thumped his chest proudly. “They’re the best of the best, I assure you.”

I crossed my arms, nodding. It was comforting to know that some things never change. If they were anything like the ones we had back in the U.S, we’d be just fine.

As if on cue, one of them marched up to the Admiral, placing a hand against their chest in some sort of medieval salute. They wore what appeared be some sort of fantastical mix of medieval and colonial garments, a silver breastplate worn over a long and flowy crimson coat. Armored leather gloves covered their hands, enveloping up to the forearms and reinforced with iron plates. On their head, a black shako laid, a red plume sticking out the top as the polished brass insignia gleamed in the sunlight. It portrayed yet another cross, only this time having a small anchor fixated in the middle of it.

“Sir.” The Marine said, glancing towards me. “Their lodges are ready; I had the men set up the dressers and hammocks.”

“Good lad.” Fortsworth smiled, clasping a hand on the man’s shoulder. Turning towards the Lagoan Hero, he continued. “You’ve met Edward Reeves, haven’t you, Mr. Cardone? I believe it was five years ago on the shores of Volensia.”

Ciro paused for a moment, an idle look in his eyes as he tried to recall the memory. “Ah, that boy I rescued during the main assault.” He finally nodded, turning to Edward. “My, how you’ve grown. Are you still getting seasick?”

“Not as much as I have in the past.” Edward replied, smiling. He blinked, quickly ending his sentence with a curt “Sir.”

Looking at him now, I realized how youthful he appeared. His features were fine enough, albeit a bit young considering his profession. The pale skin of his face clashed with the dark colors of the deck, amber eyes staring out at into the ocean with a hint of idle anxiousness. Golden locks peeked out the back of his shako, cut neatly before dipping low into the confines of his high collar. Trimmed sideburns lined the sides of his face, giving me the impression that he was compensating for his lack of experience by trying to appear older than he actually was.

“I dare say,” The Good Doctor continued. “I’ve never in my life had met a sea soldier who is practically terrified of the ocean.”

Edward bit his lip, offering the doctor yet another smile. “Talk to my father, Sir. He was the one who ‘convinced’ me to make the life choice of being a Marine in this glorious Order of ours.”

“He’s young, but he is learning.” The Admiral chuckled, giving the young Marine a light shake. “His father, as you know, is Captain of the H.H.S. Carcia. I believe he’s somewhere up the coast right about now, looking for those damnable heathen pirates that have been harassing the hamlets for a while now; a damn fine captain for a damn fine ship.”

“If you say so, Admiral.” The Marine interjected, gesturing to Ciro and I as he continued. “Their quarters are situated below deck on the observatory level. It’s the most private place I could find, as well as the only one large enough so that they can each have their separate rooms” He looked at me. “As of now, we’re currently loading the special cargo below deck so that the men don’t ask many questions. It’s still the strangest thing I’ve ever seen, though.”

Fortsworth nodded. “Excellent. Keep your head on a swivel and your mouth shut. We must be alert during transport, we will have enough problems on the sea when we finally set off. I’d hate to have our own men be consumed by their own curiosity so soon.”

Edward raised and eyebrow, ultimately closing his eyes and raising his hand towards his chest. “As you say Sir. The matter will be kept under wraps for as long as you wish it.”

“Wait,” I began, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Observatory below deck? What are you talking about?”

Reeves smiled, turning to the Admiral. “Sir, If I may?”

“You have my authorization. Mr. Cardone and I have much to discuss. We will send for you and this young man at a later time when I deem it necessary.”

“Yes Sir.” Edward reaffirmed before tapping my helmet with his knuckles. “C’mon. I’ll show you what I mean.”

Well, this was going to be interesting indeed.


	22. 22

A/N: Back to normal length. Thanks for reading!

\-----

 

Chapter 22 

“What’s your relationship with the Admiral anyway?” I began, attempting to strike up a conversation with the young marine as we plunged deeper into the bowels of the ship. “It seems like you two have a familial relationship, if you don’t mind my input.” 

“Not at all, really.” Edward replied, removing the shako from his head and brushing back his flaxen hair that had fallen into disarray. “My father and him go ages back, far before I was even born. They were shipmates, you see. Two sides of the same coin, a brotherhood forged in the flames of trial and conflict.”

He paused, placing a hand against his mouth and stifling a chuckle. “Or so they say. As you can see, the Order’s Fleet did them a service. They signed up as mere sailors. Now look at them; a captain for a father who is buddy-buddy with a bloody admiral. That’s a strong connection that you really don’t want to sever. Not like it can, anyway. The bridge between dear ol’ daddy and Admiral Fortsworth has proven itself to be pretty damn flame-resilient over the years.” 

“They speak highly of each other.” I stated flatly, turning towards Reeves to gauge his reaction on my assumption. 

“You thought pretty hard about that one, didn’t you?” He replied, shaking his head. “You should see it when the Admiral comes over for a visit. Hell, Father makes me the serving boy. I’ll tell you this; they’re a lot worse when they’re drunk. God, do they talk up a storm.” 

We made a left and proceeded down another dimly lit corridor, the hallway almost swaying back and forth with the waves below. 

“But enough about me. What about you? You seem to be pretty special from what I’ve noticed.” He gestured towards me, looking me up and down. “Forgive me for the assumption, but you appear to be some sort of highclass, strange looking individual from a place unknown. I mean, you have a hero escorting you, practically walked on to the most heavily armed ship in the entire Order, and have the strangest looking contraption that I’ve ever seen.”

Reeves reached out, flicking the medal on my chest gingerly. “I say, you even have a Medal of Valor. It’s very hard for us normal folk to get such an honor; you must be quite extraordinary.” He paused, suddenly taking a step back. “Oh, forgive me. I haven’t even learned your name.” 

I nodded. “It’s-”  
“Reeves!” Came the muffled cry from one of the numerous cabin doors that lined the passageway. “C’mere for a minute! I need your hand with this fuckin’ flintlock! The mechanism is jammed and it’s bein’ a right an’ proper pain in tha’ arse!” 

Edward sighed, reaching up and rubbing his temples. “That would be Harold, our quartermaster and armorer.” 

Extending an arm, he pointed down the hallway and continued. “Don’t wait up, it’ll be a lifetime in order to deal with the man. The Observatory is two decks down on the right. Just keep taking the stairs lower and lower until you reach it. It’s hard to miss.” 

“Right.” I replied, turning away and continuing onward by myself. 

I wasn’t the best at following directions, and I didn’t want to get myself lost in the maze that was the lower decks of the H.H.S. Francisca. So, very carefully, I made sure to take the most immediate right once I finally made it down the corridor. Upon doing that, I proceeded forward, looking for the stairs. They came in the form of some dark little crevice tucked away in the corner of room, a small hole with a steep flight of stairs being the only indication that this was indeed the correct path. 

It was a good thing that I wasn’t claustrophobic. 

Making my way down the stairs, I was greeted with an all encompassing darkness, followed the a silence, that, somehow, managed to be quieter than the absence of sound itself. To say that I felt uneasy would be an understatement. There tends to be a kind of dissatisfaction in walking through cramped, poorly lit hallways. That, and the fact that I could hear nothing but the sound of my own breathing and drumming heart was quite unnerving. 

However, a sudden pulse of light flickered in the rightmost corner of my vision. Upon looking down, I was surprised to see that it was coming from me. Or, rather, my gauntlet. The eyes of the skull burned a deep crimson hue, casting a velvet shadow all along the pitch black deck. There were symbols plastered all around the armored hand, however. Runes of unknown origin were engraved deeply into the metal, dancing in the same sanguine light. 

 

Whether or not it meant something greater was at play was another matter entirely. 

“This sure as hell doesn’t look like a glorified glowstick.” I mumbled to myself, continuing onward and ducking as I came to another hole.   
The final deck was just below, and with it, the observatory. 

\-----

The atmosphere had changed quickly enough; as soon as I had moved into the so called observatory, a swathe of turquoise light enveloped the broad and spacious room. The realization that the floor was made out of glass dawned on me first, my boots thudding against the thick translucent floor and resounding off the sturdy walls of the deck. All around, the pulsing sound of being underneath a vast amount of water drummed in my ears, waves lapping up against the ship from above. 

It was surreal, this place. If it wasn't for the ceiling, you could've swore that you were underneath the ocean, staring out into that deep blue all by your lonesome. Despite just leaving the harbor, the sea wasn't dark or murky and brown. Rather, it was clear, like staring into a mirror made of the purest liquid. 

It was beautiful, under the sea. 

All along the ocean floor, seventy feet down, was a colorful assortment of coral and sponges, casting a rainbow that glossed over the ivory white sand below. Fish of all shapes and sizes, alien and unfamiliar, swam to and fro in small schools. Despite being in a different universe, some things seemed to remain constant. However, that didn't help the feeling that dwelled inside of me. The fact that I, became a part of something greater, despite my misgivings. And despite all the praise I had been given, no matter how high a pedestal they put me on, I felt very, very small.

I will admit, I had often taken for granted the beauty of the world. How could I hope to experience the wonders of this one, when I haven't even appreciated the planet I had left behind? The little things give you the most pleasure in life, or so they say. Regardless, I felt exhausted. There would be time for introspection later. For now, I just wanted to find a damn bed.

\----

“Correct me if I'm wrong.” Admiral Fortsworth began, slowly pacing behind his desk, a glass of amber rum sloshing in his grasp. “You found this boy in the middle of the woods, wearing peculiar clothes of which have no origin, and decided to bring him to your residence despite not knowing if he was a threat?”

“That is correct.” Ciro nodded, his hands folded upon his lap as he watched the Navy Official.

“And these reports also state that he has no spirit energy; how the hell is he even alive?” The Admiral replied. “Every living thing on this planet has to have at least some of the stuff! What kind of freak of nature is this kid? Didn't you say he was dead when you found him?”

“Not dead.” The Good Doctor corrected. “Dead-like. I heard a disturbance not too far from the woods where I reside, and seeing that it is a rather quiet area, it's only natural that I respond accordingly.”

He placed a hand on his beak, continuing. “When I had arrived, there were bits of metal strewn about in the clearing, pieces of the contraption in which you saw.”

“You did a hell of a job fixing it.” Fortsworth grunted. “How'd you manage that?”

Ciro shrugged. “Magic. The addition of possessing knowledge and being familiar in technological aspects also certainly helps.”

The Admiral rolled his eyes, extending his arm and motioning for the Hero to continue. 

“Then I found him, wallowing in a pool of his own blood, wrapped against a tree with his neck at an impossible angle.” The Doctor shook his head. “At first I thought he had expired in the accident, since my artifact didn't detect any energy in the area. I only realized he wasn't deceased when I check his pulse the old fashioned way. None of my immediate care healing spells worked either. I had to resort to surgery and chemical formulas to undue the damage to his nerves.”

He leaned in. “Think about it, a man who is not affected by magic is therefore incorruptible! Do you have any idea of how big an asset that is? We could send him to finish what others could not.”

“That'll require training.” Fortsworth replied. “Something which takes many years, longer now that we've been compromised.”

“He's a quick learner.” Ciro replied. “You saw the medal on his chest. I didn't give him that, he earned it by his own merit. Not only that, it was before I had even thought about the process of training him. He's gifted, or possessed. Either way, I do believe he has the potential of being something much more than he currently is. What that is, I am not sure. However, high risk and high reward are in close conjunction with each other, wouldn't you say, Admiral?”

Ciro couldn't mention the gauntlet. He didn't know much about it himself.

Fortsworth paused, taking a sip of his drink. “The Chief God won't just come down from the heavens to the accompaniment of harps and Angels, bestow upon him some great power and call it a day. You know that Mr. Cardone, possibly more so given you were born with that strength.”

“I am well aware.” Ciro nodded. “His lack of energy is also a problem. A blessing will most likely not affect him, which is troubling. It's almost as if he is not even from this realm. But I may have a solution to our problem.”

“Which is?”

The Hero chuckled mirthfully, rubbing his hands together as he straightened in his seat. “What if there was a way to chemically enhance him? A sort of hero serum.”

“That's blasphemy, Mr. Cardone.” The Admiral stated flatly. “You know the Pope says only God can give such things to mortal men.”

“The Pope is misguided, I believe. We’ve been using dated tactics for a dated method of war. This is something we haven't ever faced before. We must adjust and adapt…” The Scientist trailed off. “Or die.”

Fortsworth stared at him, ultimately shaking his head and sighing. “You have a point, Hero, and I hate you for it. ” 

Another swig of alcohol. “I hope you know what you are doing, bringing him here. If the Demons already know about him, they'll be looking high and low for him. The Monster Lord will no doubt ask Poseidon for her help. And, seeing as we are teetering on the edge of her waters, we must be careful not to attract any attention to ourselves. Seeing that this is going to be a lengthy voyage, this is all easier said than done, of course. However, with any luck, we’ll have him in the Cardinal’s possession in a few weeks. My only concern is going over this damn trench over and over.”

“I am aware of the risks.” Ciro affirmed. “Which is why I brought him here. I believe that the finest Admiral in the fleet and the capable crew of the H.H.S. Francisca can handle it.”

Fortsworth chuckled. “You bloody kissass. Alright, you prude. Come, let us drink to the agreement.”


	23. 23

/N: Thanks for reading!

\------------

Chapter 23

I awoke to the sounds of waves splashing against the wooden hull of the ship, the old boards creaking quietly as they fought against the outside current. The entire room rocked and back forth in the dim light of my quarters, the lamp hanging against the wall struggling to maintain its flickering flame with the newfound motion all around. I didn’t know how long I had slept for, being in such cramped and dingy quarters. Luckily, my eyes had adjusted well enough to see the sleeping arrangements for what they were; that is to say, pretty damn shitty. Regardless, the constant swinging of the hammock I was laying in didn’t do my stomach any favors, and I was glad to be out of the thing as I clambered off to stretch my legs.

Stumbling around my room like a drunken sailor, I placed a hand against the wall in an effort to steady myself. It was quite baffling on how a ship this size could swing so much; it was practically immovable when it had been in the harbor, after all. Perhaps the vessel was simply sailing on some rather rough seas. It was a logical conclusion, seeing as I’d been on more than a fair share of cruise ships that experienced the same occurrence. As the light waned, the sanguine gloom of my gauntlet waxed, bathing the entire room in an all too familiar crimson glimmer. I took a step forward, wincing as I heard an audible pop in my knee, followed by an uncomfortable sensation tingling up all along my spine.

“Fucking Medieval beds…” I growled, shaking my head and stepping out into the hallway. Getting my bearings was simple enough, it was the prospect of retracing my steps that would prove to be daunting. Walking down the corridor, the realization that everything appeared to be darker came to me. At this thought, I paused, glancing towards the doorway that led into the observatory. As I made my way towards the room, I couldn’t help but murmur out some inaudible curse, wishing that I had made the decision to wear my wrist watch that fateful night. Regardless, there wasn’t anything I could do about it now. Hopefully I could get my hands on some sort of pocketwatch one of those wererabbits had. God knows she ain’t usin’ it.

As soon as my body had crossed the threshold, numerous sigils, a dull sapphire hue, flashed against the walls and floor. Each one seemed to shift, changing into different numbers and symbols that were unfamiliar to me. What I did understand, however, was that the once exuberant and bright gateway to the ocean was now nothing more than some stygian pit that lay flat in the center of the area. Giving the glass an experimental tap with my foot, I realized that the seas had just turned dark. Pale moonlight can’t reach below the waves the way the sun could. Well, at least I thought so.

“Alright,” I mumbled under my breath. “It’s night time.”

Fuck. Why do I keep waking up at such late hours? It seemed that I was always up when everyone was just heading to bed; it didn’t happen that often in my old world. Being a night person helped, of course. But shit, some Vitamin D would be nice every once in awhile.

I yelped as my knee collided with the ladder that led to the upper decks. “Fuck!”

My head hit the ceiling as I was climbing up it. “Shit!”

I continued to injure myself. “Dammit!”

Eventually, I reached the top, feeling battered and bruised and humiliated having just gotten my ass kicked by a flight of stairs.

This better not be a reoccurring thing, since I had a low tolerance for self-injury. Nobody kicks my ass and gets away with it, not even myself. My eyes burned with a dryness akin to that of the Sahara, my mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton and wiped clean of saliva with a washcloth someone had just used to wipe their ass. Needless to say, I had to lift up my visor lest I suffocate.

The sound of footsteps coming towards me shifted my attention towards other matters.

Down the hall came Edward, his hands folded neatly behind his back as he approached me. “Ah, there you are.” He began, dark circles underneath his eyes as he offered me a small grin. “I’ve been sent to come get you. The Admiral wishes for you to join him for supper.”

“He’s quite the hospitable type.” I replied, nodding. “Sure, I could use a drink and a good meal right about now.”

“Excellent.” Came the Marine’s reply. “If you’ll follow me; the Admiral’s quarters are on the main deck above.”

As we walked side by side, I decided to strike up a conversation to break the silence. Call me easily nervous, but I tended to like noise at times; it broke up the awkwardness that seemed to follow me wherever I went.

“You look like hell.” I began, pointing my head towards his eyes. “The Admiral must run you ragged.”

“Huh, do I really look that exhausted to you?” Edward replied, gingerly touching his eyelids. “I hadn’t noticed. I wouldn’t say it is Mr. Fortsworth as it is his orders themselves. He gives me very few, mind you. Yet the tasks he demands completed takes up so much time that even with a good fifty crewmen we have trouble carrying out his will. One time he made us clean the entire hull since we had sailed through a thick layer of algae.”

“Sounds bad.” I chuckled.

Edward shifted his gaze forward, opening his mouth and letting loose a hearty chuckle. “Aye, that it was! Good God, I’ve never seen so many pissed off sailors at once! I thought we were going to have a mutiny on our hands! The last time the boatswain suggested the idea, I found him hoisted up on the topmost mast by his ankles with his undergarments shoved in his mouth.”

I snorted. “What! You have to be joking! What did the Admiral to in response?”

“He had himself a proper giggle and rightly fell back asleep when I told him. I think he found the entire situation to be rather ridiculous. I can only imagine what everyone would have done if he had taken away the grog.”

“We’d all be at the bottom of the ocean, I reckon.” I replied, wiping my eyes. “Yeesh, I needed that laugh. Thanks, Reeves.”

“My pleasure, Mister…?” He extended his arm, his voice trailing off as he waited for my name.

“None of that Mister stuff,” I smiled, giving his hand a firm shake. “Call me-”

A series of muffled hoots and hollers came from just behind the door that lead to the Admiral’s room. And just like that, the smell of the salty sea filled my nostrils, a light breeze from the west brisking past my cheeks as I found myself above the ocean, standing upon the upper deck of the ship.

“Our conversation will have to pick up at a later date, Sir.” Edward smiled at me, placing his Shako on his head before dipping his back in a curt bow. “Until then.”

“Until then.” I returned, removing my helmet. I will admit, I was feeling a bit anxious. It’s not everyday a high ranking military officials wishes to speak with you over dinner. To think, I had gone from being just an ordinary guy on a bike to some kind of superhero. Funny as it was, I didn’t feel very special at all.

The moment I entered the room, I could tell dinner was not going to be served. The atmosphere didn’t suggest it at all. If the dimness of the room and the moonlight shining in through the six stained glass windows was any indication, I’d say I was literally being kept in the dark. Fortsworth’s quarters were elaborate and quite ornate, to say the least. A rather finely made carpet stretched out from the doorway to the windows, sprawled across the refurbished flooring with precise care. In the far corner of the room were two shelves filled to the brim with books and scrolls, their titles indecipherable to me in the dark. On top of one, was a leather chest, padlocked and set high above everything else in the room. Other novelties, such as globes and model ships, were sparsely placed all over the area. A velvet curtain draped below the windows, following the wall until it cut off near a sudden gap in the middle. Parted partway, I saw that a sizable bed lay past it, as well as a wardrobe.

This guy sure knew how to live fancy.

He was seated in the middle of the room at the end of a small table, a map plastered along the edge that covered the desk from corner to corner. A flickering candle dripped hot wax into the small cup holding it, casting a sort of shadow all along the Admiral’s features. It was foreboding, and to think all I wanted was some soup.

“You’ll have to forgive me for the lack of a good meal.” Fortsworth called out to me, gesturing for me to take a seat. “I couldn’t allow Sergeant Reeves to bring you here under the pretense that this was a briefing. The men around here tend to get a bit jumpy out at sea. It should go without saying, that these waters are far more dangerous than any other point in human history. At least back then, we had the support of Poseidon. Now, I’m not so sure.”

He glanced up at me as I placed myself across from him, his gray eyes narrowing in the lamplight as he puffed away on a pipe that hung loosely in his mouth.

“While you were sleeping, I’ve been monitoring the readouts coming from the Observatory ever since we had left port.” He pointed towards some unknown symbol, tracing a circle around it with his finger. “Currently, the depth from surface to the ocean floor is around eight thousand or so feet, increasing as we make our way from Jalichian shores and down into a small group of atolls known as the ‘The Rings of Kalcove.’ To get there, we have to cross a trench. Only problem is, there have been stories of a bloody Kraken that dwells in there. We are well equipped, sure, but those things are known to take down cargo ships larger than us with relative ease.”

He continued, brushing his other hand along the faded surface of the map. “Here, is where we are.” He gestured to a small figurine of the Francisca. “And here is Kolthen, about fifteen hundred miles away from our position.” He tapped a small archipelago symbolized by a couple of green blobs on a canvas of blue. This is a long voyage, and the sails will have to be up day and night in order for us to make a timely arrival. Ciro has already told me about your situation, and what happened to our little intelligence group in Lucio Province. I don’t envy the man who has to fix that mess, but as a result it makes our job a lot harder.”

Godfrey looked up at me, nodding. “You’ll be alright.”

As if on cue, the ship jolted with such an intensity that the two of us were almost thrown to the floor, a fate that many of the books on the shelves could not avoid. The room continued to rock and bounce, prompting the Admiral to suddenly straighten himself, making his way towards outside when Edward suddenly bolted into the room.

Black powder covered his lips, a streak of blood splashed across his cheek as he heaved out some exasperated warning. “Admiral, a damn Possessed Ship surfaced up about a mile off of our starboard! They’re bombarding us!”

Distant splashing resounded throughout the room in a chortled choir, a few shots ricocheting off the waves and causing damage to the ship’s railings. Wood shattered and splintered, sending shards that went slashing across the deck.

“I’ll be damned if we sink now! Damn Poseidon and our shitty circumstance! Return fire, dammit!” The Admiral roared, withdrawing two pistols from his belt as he all but stamped out the door.

“Aye, Sir! We’ll blow em’ to bits and send them back into the briny hell from whence they came!” Edward replied, running after him.

Being left by myself, I could only wonder how the hell things had escalated so quickly; how I simply couldn’t catch a break.

My brain screamed at me to find the one person who has helped me this far:

Find Ciro.

Now.


	24. 24

A/N: Thanks for reading!

 

Chapter 24

\-------

“Open the gun ports!” Admiral Fortsworth barked, stomping across the deck as he made his way towards the helm of the vessel, his boots thudding heavily against the deck all the while. “I want all fifty-six cannons ready to fire on that vessel! Load, ram, and unleash hell!”

Amidst the clambering of sailors and marines alike, I ducked low, briskly walking towards the railings and peering out into vast unknown. Off in the distance came some lumbering monstrosity in the form of a derelict ship, gliding upon the frothing waves like a malevolent wraith.

And although it wasn’t close, I could already catch the faintest whiff of blood, a bitter iron miasma glossed over with a copious layer of salt. That alone was enough to make me recoil in disgust, gripping the shattered railings tightly as I shook my head. The hull was encrusted with a thick covering of sea life, crusty barnacles speckling the hull and dotted with a mixture of sea stars, seaweed, and coral. Massive holes encroached dangerously over the sides of the old vessel, other blatant battlescars coming in the form of torn sails and shattered masts. And along the broadside, the ghostly silhouettes of her crew stood, as stoic and resolute as the ship that carried them.

The first volley from the Francisca came roaring below, the cannons playing their thunderous and discordant tune as they fired erratically at the approaching Possessed. If I focused, I could catch the briefest flash of those iron balls soaring over the seas, arcing high above the waves before descending upon the dilapidated vessel. Rotted wood caved in and splintered off, falling back into the murky depths below. One had clipped a mast, the already broken structure finally submitting and plummeting overboard with a resounding splash.

“Admiral!” Edward hollered, lowering the telescope from his eye before facing Fortsworth. “Our shots are having no effect! It’s still coming at us!”

Godfrey shook his head, wiping the spittle from his chin and bearing his teeth at the oncoming boat. “As if I give a damn!” He turned, clasping the Helmsman soundly on the back and all but screaming his order. “Bring us to bow! Give these bloody abominations the triple guns!”

“Aye, Sir!” The Crewman replied, grunting and spinning the wheel around. The ship jostled and careened to the right, groaning under the sudden turn. The bow of the Francisca dipped underneath into some hidden compartment, and I already I felt my eyes widening as the tip of that tri-barrelled piece of artillery came into view.

“Fire!” The Admiral roared.

A heavy thud deep in my chest leapt up and punched me in the throat, the shockwave of the weapon bellowing out over the waves before screaming all the way to the mist covered skies above. The sound of each shot smashed viciously against my eardrums, causing me to flinch and quickly pull my visor down in an effort to muffle the noise.

It didn’t help.

The searing hot blaze of a literal ball of fire flashed momentarily across my field of vision, spiralling into the air like a falling star as it exploded against the deck of the ghost ship, the tattered sails easily becoming ablaze as smoke pillared into the air in rampant black wafts. It licked hungrily at the ancient wooden raft, spreading uncontrollably to both broadsides and dousing the deck in a bed of flame.

“They’re lit, Admiral!” Sergeant Reeves observed, bringing the scope up to his eye.

It seemed that the worst had come to pass, a conspicuous grin plastered upon Edward’s face as he nodded. “It won’t be a cold night, tonight. We’ve just made ourselves a rather impressive bonfire.”

All was quiet, and all of us onboard simply stopped and stared at that floating wreck, crackling softly into the night unperturbed as the sound of the sea sloshing against the hull filled the air with the aftermath.

Then it returned fire.

The rustic shot dipped low and skipped over the waves, the last flick across the surface abruptly causing the ball to lurch upwards, missing the upper deck by mere inches as it flew across. One of the sailors wasn’t so lucky. One minute he was standing; the next second a vacant space replaced the spot where his head should have been. Crimson fluid spurted from the stump of his neck, the body collapsing to the floor and twitching, a copious amount of blood cascading across the deck and pooling at our feet.

Suddenly I was tackled to the floor, smacking heavily against the deck as Edward pushed his hand against my chest, hissing into my ear. “Stay low! They’re returning fire!”

Another volley impacted against the side of the Francisca’s hull, causing him to dip low. “How the hell are they still functioning after those shots?”  
“Supernatural ability and a heinous deal with chaos.” Admiral Fortsworth stated grimly, his lips contorted into a frown, brow creased as he continued. “Get up, Sergeant. We need are going to need you for what happens next.”

Godfrey turned, approaching the railing of the bridge and calling out to the personnel below.

“Men!” He hollered, unsheathing his cutlass. “Prepare for boarding!”

A cry of acknowledgement rang out from the crew, the sound of swords being free of their scabbards and hammers of muskets and pistols being cocked filling the air with a sense of trepidation and fear.

And so the drifting bonfire of a ship became a blazing battering ram, skimming over the seas towards us menacingly.

Volley after volley pounded against the Francisca ruthlessly, shot and shell battered mast and men, punctured and dismantled all that held the vessel together. Cannons returned fire to no effect, becoming unhinged and rolling uselessly to the littered deck as well placed balls struck their targets. Bodies continued to fall, useless husks perforated with shrapnel that bled freely across the side of the ship; a canvas of red draping over the hull and intermingle with the foaming sea below.

Water all around...and not a drop to drink.

I felt the flooring underneath me give way as a cannonball smashed just a few feet away from me, splintered wood raining down upon me as a sudden pain exploded in my right leg. Deliriousness had a firm hold on me, making me fall to the floor and go limp. My mouth felt dry, tears dripped from the corners from my eyes, everything burned. Crawling to the helm wheel, I propped myself up against it, looking down at what was causing me so much discomfort.

A six inch shard of timber was buried in my thigh, a torrent of red seeping from the hole and making me feel light headed and sick to my stomach. Hunching over, I fell to my stomach, groaning when a voice filled my ears.

“Rocket!” It cried out, muffled and distorted. Warily lifting my head, I could see Edward running towards me, grabbing me by my jacket and pulling me away. “I don’t know your name yet, so you’ll have to forgive me if I use the back of your coat as a placeholder.” He looked at me, concern evident on his face as he stared wide eyed at the approaching enemy ship. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what your purpose is being here, but you’re important; that’s all that matters. So stay alive, dammit!”

He smacked my helmet, making me blink as I stared back at him.

“Ciro-” I murmured. “Where’s the hero?”

“I haven’t the damndest idea, but the Admiral is off somewhere else and the cohesion of this crew is falling apart!”

The flaming ship was now upon us, and I could feel the roaring heat seeping underneath my skin the closer it got. A deafening smash was heard as it collided headlong into the Francisca, sending more than a few men sprawling to the deck. Through the shouts and screams, the once darkened silhouettes of the unliving crew were no longer shrouded in darkness.

They came charging from the billowing smoke and ember, their figures alight and smouldering as they leaped over the railings and ran through all that they saw. These were no suits of armor. Rather, upon their bodies clung the remnants of old uniforms, their faces concealed behind makeshift face wraps made of old sails and burlap bags. Yet, one thing always remained the same; sapphire eyes burning brightly beneath darkened sockets of undeath.

“Stay here and keep out of sight!” Edward barked, tucking me in a crevice between two barrels and charging into the fray.

I didn’t see him again after that.

All around me was a battlefield, clashing swords sent sparks flying, the sound of metal upon metal. The overpowering smell of gunpowder hung in the air, flashes blared in the night as pot shots were taken at both sides; the occasional bout of musket and pistol fire. Flames greedily took more control of both vessels, being left unchecked. And through it all, the cries of the fighting and dying, I could only wonder…

Where the hell was Ciro?

Already I could feel myself growing bleary eyed, the pain in my leg now but a dull throb as there wound around the shard began to clot. I didn’t want to start fading in and out of consciousness, but at this point there wasn’t much of a choice.

The all too familiar ring of a serrated chain filled my ears, blades surging through the smoke and wrapping around the forms of a good four possessed. Then came the yank, followed a piercing screech coming forth from the undead as they were rendered limb from limb. Out of their wounds poured out a foul smelling foam, followed by vigorous flood of red tide that splattered all it touched haphazardly and covered the deck.

Through the smog came a countenance resembling a raven, an alabaster mask peering through the blaze before falling upon me.

“Young man.” Ciro spoke to me calmly, flicking his wrist and snapping his cane into place. “It appears that trouble has found us. I find myself rather surprised at how quickly things fall into disarray ever since you showed up.”

“The Admiral is missing,” I breathed out, once again clutching my leg. “Edward went off to look for him; I haven’t seen him since.”

“I should have known better; the seas are under control by a god who is not with us.” Ciro continued, reaching into his cloak and removing a pistol. In one which solid motion, the Good Doctor had pulled back the hammer, leveled it to his side, and fired it point blank into the chest of an oncoming Possessed. “During a time in which not even the dead are at peace…” He flipped the flintlock around, using the handle as a club to cave in the skull of another. “How can we hope to ever succeed?” Letting the gun fall from his grasp, he turned, a ball of lightning crackling loudly in his hand and throwing it into a group of three. The attack enveloped their forms causing their insides to bubble up and boil, red tide bursting forth from the cracks in their bandages before they fell to the floor.

All the while the Hero was walking towards me, ceaselessly attacking and speaking at the same time.

“Like I said, anyone can accomplish anything if they set their minds to it.” He finally stood before me, looking down as he extended his hand. “Sacrifice.” He continued, his voice muffled. “Sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice.”

 

“Do not preach to me 'bout th' wiles 'o sacrifice, hero. I set out upon th' sea in th' service 'o God 'n Kin'dom much like y'self. All I found was the Reaper's treasure chest 'n destruction, curses 'n lies set loose by th' supposed holy men in th' Church.”

Ciro turned around, watching as the massive form of the Possessed Leader came forth from the blazing bow of their ship.

The Captain was a mountain of a thing, the tattered remains of their overcoat barely fitting them as it drifted in the breeze. Barnacle covered boots covered it’s feet, trailing up and ending just below the knee. It gripped a massive blunderbuss with singed gloves, pulling back the hammer and raising it up to its weathered face; a loosely wrapped visage, defined by a white beard and sopping wet locks that dripped down like rain. Over its left eye was a sea star, acting like some sort of eyepatch as it aimed at us.

“Now ye gunna pay th' price fer ye transgressions. th' cost 'o faith in a forsaken god who cares wee fer ye; I'll put ye out 'o ye misery so that ye may spy wit' ye eye th' revelations that were bequeathed to me.”

Ciro turned to me, and, with a very slight shake off his head, replied. “No, I think not.”

The Hero turned, unclasping his cane and sending forth the serrated chain. It wrapped around the Captain’s weapon, yanking it upward before the Possessed could pull the trigger, instead causing it to discharge into the the air, the audible boom causing my ears to ring as I grit my teeth.

Suddenly, the Undead Leader reached out and gripped the chain with their clammy palms, ignoring as the blades cut into its hands as it clamped down. Then, it pulled, causing the chain, and Ciro with it, to soar through the air and disappear into lower deck. With the Good Doctor distracted and out of the way for the time being, it was just it and me.

I was fucked.

“Ye care a lot fer 'tis wee jim laddie. I'll prove to ye that all ye hold dear in 'tis seven seas be nothin' but an illusion. I spit at ye notions 'o woe 'n faith.”

It stomped up to me, slamming its foot against the splinter in my thigh. I screamed, but was suddenly cut off as it jammed the bayonet straight through my shoulder. Bleeding heavily, I felt my breath grow ragged. It hoisted me at eye level, staring into my very soul with its bright blue eyes.

“Death is only th’ beginnin’. But ye already know that, don’t ye?”

It bellowed and chortled, throwing me over the railing, leaving the blunderbuss still lodged deep within me. Smacking against the waves, I felt something in my back loosen.

The cold waters of the sea caused me to sink deeper and deeper, and as the flood consumed my vision, all I saw was the moon dipping low beneath the surface, the light growing fainter and dimmer all around. And, feeling cold, I started to shiver.

It was too soon to die, especially if it was a life that had been filled with regret.

Lord, have mercy on me.

I succumbed to the black.


	25. 25

A/N: 

Extwa Long Chapter

 

Chapter 25

 

\------

 

Everyone likes to think that they’re ready for death; they are prepared for that inevitable truth that their life has come to an end. I was like that once. I felt that when my number was called, I could just up and perish; leave everything behind. Yet, the sincerity behind that line of thought had swiftly been discovered to be lacking. There’s a certain terror of coming so close to death while the youth remains strong.

Everybody believes that they’ll die at an old age, surrounded by loved ones- that they’ll close their eyes and drift into a heavenly sleep.

But not me.

As I sunk beneath the waves, alone and in the dark, I felt nothing but emptiness. Everything got frigid the deeper I got, nothing but the pulsing sound of dim waters filling my ears and the dull thud of my fading heartbeat to inform I still yet lived. I felt dead though, even when a strong grip wrapped around my waist and hoisted me up...still lifeless. The flickering form of a figure tinged with blue brought me to surface, and all I could do was close my eyes as my lungs began to burn.

There’s a rather peculiar feeling of happiness intertwined with these conflicting feelings. Acceptance or hope, neither of which I truly knew. I felt the rushing ambience of wind blow past my cheeks, the salty sea a bitter scent intermingled with the odor of my own iron blood. Then, by my own volition, I submitted to slumber.

-

“What’s the world come to?”

I heard a voice, throaty and forceful, reverberate softly against the noise of waves lapping up against the shore. Blurry eyed, I craned my neck to see who had spoke, only to discover that I could barely lift my chin, let alone my entire head. As if sensing my discomfort, I saw a pair of ebony boots, swaddled in a vast array of silver buckles, approach me. Whoever had pulled me from the sea was now lightly pinching my neck, cocking my skull up with careless disinterest before taking a step back.

From my position, I could see that I had been propped up against some sort of palm tree, sanguine cloth tied firmly around my injured thigh.

“You’ll have to forgive his impudence. I find that he has a rather disconcerting interest in moribund things.”

The same voice from earlier, only now I could finally put a face to it.

If their voice was any indication, I assumed that the individual standing before me was a man. Normally, I’d be perfectly fine with being rescued. However, something was very off about the guy. He stood there silently, his entire form garbed in an ebony tunic as rivets upon rivets of plated metal ran up the span of his arms, ending with dark leather gloves reinforced with some kind of steely looking material that glimmered with an amethyst hue. Legs as equally armored as the rest of him, ornate etchings of crosses and skulls were engraved everywhere I saw. Elaborate and luxurious straps secured everything into place, assisted by a vast array of buckles and fastenings that hugged his form tightly. Head covered by a lengthy hood, the most notable thing was the gray and red mask that he wore over his face. The design bordered on uncanny valley, eerily smooth and possessing a detailed mouth with lips that curled downward. Along with the slender nose, a single eyepiece on the left side gave way to a retina that sparkled a pulsing bright sapphire. And as the pupil dilated, it fixed itself upon me.

It frightened me, for, within that little gateway to the soul, I could see that he had none. Or, rather, something deep inside him was fighting for it; a struggle. A pained gaze, I surmised.

“What…” I rasped out, gritting my teeth as I clutched my shoulder tightly. “Who are you?”

The hooded figure cocked his head to the side, shifting down into a squat as his boots dug into the sand.

“An excellent question.” He stated flatly, tapping his forehead. “One I’d love to know the answer to myself.”

He narrowed his eye, exhaling softly through the little gap of his mask. “Ages past, he found himself upon a beach much like this one, searching for someone who could help him with my little predicament. To think, one would not normally search for answers in a place in which they know there are none to be found. The sheer insanity of it befuddled him, and I couldn’t make sense of anything until I found a lonely little fisherman struggling to get their raft out to sea. He asked the fisherman if I could be of any assistance, upon which his help was gladly received. In return for his help, the kindly man pointed me in the direction where he could get some answers. To think, to find answers in a place in which there are none; I’d like to think that it defies all logical thought, no reason in it all.”

Standing up, the man shook his head. “He called me Varon, although the name itself is unfamiliar to him. You may call me as such, despite the confusion I find myself holding within.”

Jesus, I couldn’t make a single lick of sense of what the hell this guy was saying. If I wasn’t struggling to right myself and breathe, I’d already be far away from this lunatic.

“Forgive the ramblings of someone long dead, I forgot that they tend to ramble when they no longer need to take a breath.”

Varon closed his eye, remaining still for the longest time. When he finally opened it, it was no longer blue. Rather, it was a deep brown, circled with the faded purple ring of restlessness.

“There was a time in which I would’ve let you die, if for no other reason than to reaffirm my belief in the inevitability of it all. A fragment of me thinks that you’ll be different somehow. I do not know why this other half thinks of you as such, yet I’m inclined to agree with the notion. To think I found you sinking into the depths on my evening stroll along the ocean bed.

I could only grunt in reply, removing a hand from my shoulder and nodding. “I’m nobody special.”

“But you are confused, that much I can tell. I care not for your wellbeing, but the mentally inadequate side of this form still has such a bleeding heart. So, let me inform you, before you blackout or die, I care not.”

He stood, clasping his arms behind his back as he turned away from me.

“You and I are alike, and it is because of that very reason I am not sure whether to watch you, or completely and utterly destroy you like the affront to God that you are.”

I remained silent, listening in quiet pain.

“Yet,” He droned. “That is why you may prove to be of use.”

Suddenly Varon blinked, the hue of his eye shifting back into its vicarious blue..

“Yes, you are like him, aren’t you? Oh, how I love reunions! It’s been so long since he has met another like myself, an Inquisitor from a millennia gone by!”

My eyes widened and I backed away as he began to approach me, his arms outstretched as he seized my wrist. I followed Varon’s gaze, noticing that intent glare he was giving at my gauntlet-clad hand.

I forgot I had been wearing it.

“They called us demi monsters; they created us! I wasn’t a hero, but neither did he ever believe that I ever was. Those pompous snide little fucks!”

He squeezed my wrist tightly, and I couldn’t help but suppress a groan as I felt an enormous pressure on my bones.

“How fitting that an Inquisitor should be searching for answers. What does it all mean? How come everytime I find something that leads be closer to the truth it slips from my grasp and impales my mind!”

Varon dropped my wrist, reaching up and clutching the sides of his head as he grumbled and growled. “Enough, you fool. You’ll destroy yourself, kill us all! Kill us all!”

Varon glanced over to me. Brown.

“I’ve become quite volatile ever since time left me behind. However, in due time, you will as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“But you will; you don’t have any other choice. I can see the look in your eyes, the fear that consumes your heart. Truly, bravery and decisiveness are not among your strong traits. Should you assist me, I will bestow upon you the opportunity for rebirth!”

He paused, his eyes flaring red as raised a clenched fist in front of him. “If we do not come to an agreement, well, there are more ideal ways of expiring.”

As I stared at that clenched fist, a sharp pain blasted through my chest, like someone was smashing and breaking all my ribs with a tremendous force. My heart throbbed rapidly in my chest, chokes escaping my lips as the pressure grew too much.

“You serve me now. The decision is yours whether or not to listen. However, I must implore that you do.”

“W-What do you want me to do?” I gasped out, my canines piercing my lower lip and causing them to trickle blood.

“There is a merchant vessel approaching this island from the Eastern Continents. They have something that belongs to me. Even now, I can hear their insignificant little voices whispering in my ear. Look towards the black sun coming over the horizon; you will know it to be them.”

He began walking away, stopping momentarily before throwing something over his shoulder. “This rock will not be your tomb- not while you and I share a mutual interest.”

I looked down, eyeing the object half buried in the sand. “What’s this suppose to-” I started, shifting my head upwards.

Gone.

“Do…”

Trailing off, I reached down, grasping the item and wincing. It was a small vial of some tin colored liquid that bubbled and sloshed. Around the edges of the cork that held it within, a small red ribbon was looped around. A single symbol was stitched into the fabric; one that chilled me and made me shiver with the unforgiving feeling of uneasiness. An ‘A,’ only upside down and partially faded against the cloth. Wrapped around the tube itself was a ripped piece of parchment, it’s age apparent by its brown shades and water stains. Displayed upon it was a human skull; unnervingly detailed, cracked cranium and all.

Now, generally, the rule of thumb is to not drink the shit with a skull and crossbones on it. But hey, it’s meant to be ingested like it’s some sort of potion, right?

The moment the stuff oozed down my throat, I could feel a growing numbness creep all around. My hands, stomach, the tips of my toes- everything was gradually becoming devoid of feeling.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Something stirred inside me, and the discomfort I had been feeling had begun to gradually fade as I felt a pleasant warmness gloss over my injured thigh and shoulder. The pain began to recede, my entire body hummed with icy bliss. And as I shifted my gaze to my wounds, I could see them contort and shift, bones moving back into place, muscles reconnect, skin regrow.

And suddenly everything felt good; real good.

Seeing as my knees no longer wobbled like jelly, nor did my spine feel misaligned, I stood to my feet and looked around.

What now?

\-------

Wisps of smoke drifted from the bowl of incense that rested upon floor in the lounging area of the ‘Red Seal.’ A vast array of airy colors came in faint billows- the smell of nutmeg, spicy and wooden, enveloped the room in calm fragrance, allowing its lone occupant to smoke in relative tranquility.

 

The taste of tobacco lingered sweetly upon Masumi Arishima’s lips as she inhaled deeply from the kirseru pipe nestled between in her fingertips. It had been an excellent day; the traders from the Fuyishiobi Islands had held their end of the bargain; twenty-five crates of first-rate sake from the Zipangu mainland, with the exchange netting her a pretty little sum of gold. A flickering grin across her lips, she whipped her raccoon-like tail in front of herself, idly stroking the bushy appendage before curling it inwards, cradling it like a small child. She had to admit, she would’ve have charged more if Ise hadn’t catered to her fondness for all things ancient and antique.

 

A clever a businessman as any, she supposed. How fascinated she had been when he showed her that intriguing little piece of history. A ring, if her mind served her correctly. The Danuki hadn’t seen anything like it before in her entire experience, which said something if four hundred years of a life of trade meant anything. Either way, it was locked up securely in her jewelry box next to her futon.

She sighed, exhaling another bout of smoke and looking up thoughtfully at the chochin lamp that dangled above her quarters. The purple paper cast an amethyst hue all around, yet still provided sufficient light to where natural colors still shined brightly in the dark.

Best not to think about it, despite the barely suppressed giddiness at adding it to her already sizeable collection back in Nami Province; in her home.

All that was left was to circumvent a few small atolls, dodge a few reefs, and then they’d be homeward bound. Not to say that she was worried, of course. The Arishima Clan had long recognized the need to protect their merchandise as it was moved from one place to another. Commerce was a lovely thing; criminals and pirates knew that all too well.

A soft sudden tap on the entrance to her quarters had interrupted her train of thought, bringing her back into the outside world as a curt, yet polite voice spoke from behind the sliding door.

“Arishima-sama,” It began. “Our navigator has told us that we will be approaching the Rings of Kalcove shortly.”

“Ah, Nakasone-kun,” She began cheerfully, puffing small bouts of smoke from her mouth. “No need to be so formal, come in. I do not mind the company.”

“As you wish, Arishima-sama.” The voice replied, undertoned with a very brief, if not barely noticeable sigh.

Masumi watched as the sliding door parted way to reveal the elongated horns that protruded from the helmet of her escort; the leader of her own private guard of Samurai Oni. Armored in hardened leather and embroidered in a sheen of colorful iron scales, Nakasone stood in the doorway, slightly leaning forward on the count of her size; being seven feet tall made sea voyages an uncomfortable, if not dull experience. Silver bangs uncovered by her helmet cascaded down her blue forehead, partially obscuring her golden orbs as she gingerly parted them from her face. When she bowed down, her armor jingled faintly, caused by the strain her rather ample chest put on the cuirass. Yet, she was so adorable.

“Ah, Yukio! You are so cute!” Masumi giggled, her tail swishing back and forth as she placed her hands together. “Would you like to indulge in this finely produced tobacco I imported from the West?”

“Calling me by my first name?” Nakasone asked, her refined voice resonating throughout the lounge. “You honor me with your affection, Arishima-sama.” She offered a shallow bow, shaking her head softly as she continued. “My apologies, but I do not wish to partake in recreational substances whilst my shift has yet to end.”

“So serious…” Masumi huffed, a dainty pout forming upon her lips as she closed her eyes. “Why is it that the only time you are a joy to be around is when you drink?” She exhaled another puff of smoke. “Like that time we went to Okayame Province where you decided it was a good idea to-”

“Arishima-sama!” Nakasone blurted out, her cheeks burning scarlet as she waved her hands in front of her. “P-Please don’t mention that! The shame I get from the memory is too much for me to bear!”

“Ufufufu, I’ve never seen such a woman act so undignified, and to think that you are a battle-tested warrior~” Masumi continued, reclining against the pillows as shaking her head. “You need to learn how to relax occasionally, all work and no play is boring. We’re on the final stretch back home; you can afford to let your guard down at least a little.”

“I-I…” Nakasone began, stumbling over her words. “I cannot! Despite the generosity of the Sea Spirits, I cannot allow that risk!” The Oni shook her head, clearing her throat as she suddenly regained her composure. “It is the solemn duty in which I gratefully serve you as your protector. My troops are yours to command; to keep you safe is the only thing that matters, Arishima-sama.”

The Danuki parted her lips to speak, only to be interrupted as three low thuds of the bune drum thumped outside, followed by the a myriad of voices that spoke with purpose, footsteps thudding heavily against the deck.

“Three drums,” Nakasone quickly stood up, the tip of one of her horns causing the chochin lamp to swing as it accidently swiped it. “That means there’s something of interest directly our field of vision. I will go investigate it, my Lady. Please wait here.”

The Racoon could only sigh, licking her lips as she removed the pipe from her mouth. “What a troublesome woman…”

\-------

 

I stood on the shore of the atoll, the waves lapping gently against my boots as I gazed out towards the sun. It rose from the depths, a golden orb reborn from the sea and bathing the entire world in the flaxen hue of sunlight. And with it, came a new sense of peace. I never really watched the sky back on Earth. Hell, if I did, I probably wouldn’t think anything of it. But here, at this moment, it filled me with reassurance. I’ve seen great beauty. I’ve seen the ugliness of the world. Times like these, you find something to live for, to push onward towards the new day, to keep fighting.

“Shit, I’m getting too emotional.” I chuckled, dipping my head low and giving it a soft shake.

I was no philosopher, neither was I poet. You can’t help but take a liking to things that make you feel good; that make you feel something. Resonation is what makes us human, after all. The past few weeks have sucked. I’ve met and lost more people than I ever could have imagined. Either way, I had a job to do.

I paused.

There was just no telling whether or not I’d be doing the right thing for the right reasons for the right people.

Best not think about it too much.

Three lonely beats of a wayward drum reached my ears, and as I looked up I saw a small dot on the horizon begin to grow larger. The closer it got, the louder the thoom and rattle of that percussion instrument.

A naval expert, I wasn’t. So when a boat straight out of Shogun Total War came towards me, I couldn’t help but think that I’d just been discovered by the Japanese. But, seeing as this is a fantasy land filled with monstrous women and trigger-happy cenobites, I assumed that this was just the Zipangunese that spotted me.

True enough of his word, Zaron’s prediction was correct. The massive sails of the ship displayed upon their furls a proud sigil: a black sun, ebony rays that shot out all over the place...judging by that design, it had to be the boat I was looking for.

Was it Zaron or Varon? I forget. Either way, it didn't matter now.

Standing tall, I waved my arms in a broad arc, attempting to grab the vessel’s attention as I walked alongside the coast. I didn’t want to be stranded here; after all, if starvation or dehydration didn’t get me, some monster of the sea surely would.

Luckily, they had noticed me- if the heightened pace they were approaching at was any indication. All that remained was to play the only thing I’d gotten so good at: the waiting game.

The only thing that ran across my mind was what I was about to do, how I was going to get home, who I was going to meet.

Whoever they were, I just hoped it wasn’t a boat full of monsters. But what was the likelihood of that being the case, right?

Right?


	26. 26

A/N: Another one. 

 

Chapter 26

 

\---------------------

As the ship pulled up along the coast, I could only think of my next course of action. First and foremost being, without a doubt, to stop tempting Murphy.

I’ve never seen an Oni up close. Hell, I’d never seen a monster in real life. But shit, the moment I saw that hulking blue giant standing stony-faced and sporting a katana bigger than my entire body...well, to say that I was intimidated would be an understatement.

The Armored Oni stood upon the deck, her arms folded firmly in front of her as she looked me up and down with careful analysis. It was hard to not fidget about uncomfortably; it felt like she was looking way past my clothes and under my skin. Seemingly satisfied, I noticed her features visibly soften, her eyes blinking once, then twice, before she finally parted her lips to speak. And, with a voice so refined it might as well be silk extract, came forth the most complicated sounding gibberish that ever entered my ears.

I stood there, nodding, listening to every incomprehensible word come out of her mouth before I finally replied with a sentence of my own. “I have no idea what you are saying.”

Although I couldn’t quite make out her reaction from this distance, I could only assume that she had been taken aback, given how quickly she cocked her head to the side and disappeared into the house-like structure formed upon the vessel. A few minutes passed before I finally saw her again, only this time with the shortest little thing I ever did lay my eyes on.

She was wearing...well, I didn’t know what the hell she was garbed in. It sure as hell wasn’t a kimononononoohno, or whatever the fuck you called it. More like a long black skirt really, but I digress. A long sleeved shirt hung off her body, the alterations in the top exposing her pale, peach-colored shoulders, only to return to cloth once more in order to conceal the rest of her forearms- just barely showing the tips of her well-manicured fingers. Around her waist was a large red ribbon tied neatly into a bow, pressing snuggly against her midriff to the point where her breasts pushed up over the top, covering the majority of it. Her hair was cut short, just glancing her shoulders, with glossy ebony bangs that softly brushed against her forehead. Upon the top of her head rested a pair of furry raccoon ears and a large green leaf, all of which twitched occasionally with every slight creak of the wooden bune as it sloshed carelessly in the sea. But the most noticeable thing to me was her face. There always seemed to be a shadow covering her eyes; eyes that gave way to a more cunning and manipulative nature otherwise unseen. Their color was a smoldering mix of amber and goldenrod yellow, accentuating the black iris’ that were fixated upon me, watching me with casual interest. If that wasn’t enough to give me an idea for what her species was, then her lips and facial expression said enough. She always sported the same tiny smirk, with a constant aura of a barely contained smugness that lingered and followed her wherever she went.

“Tanuki.” I stated, crossing my arms and nodding. That was it, I remember it clearly now; insidious little rodents that would use illusions and trickery to spiral you into debt, only for them to fix all your problems in exchange for becoming their indentured servant. That, or a husband if they liked you enough; a man’s balls would fit perfectly inside that coin purse of hers. I’ll be damned if I’m deceived.

“My, you have quite the tongue on you.” She giggled, placing a hand upon her lips. “I can only imagine if that’s what landed you in your current predicament.”

Blinking, I felt myself make a fist before looking away abashedly, an all too familiar heat creeping up my cheeks. I had spoke aloud and hadn’t realized it. My bad.

“My apologies, Ma’am.” I returned, raising my hands up defensively. “I meant no offence- just thinking aloud is all.”

She cocked her head to the side, the smirk upon her lips growing wider as she closed her eyes in a sort of smile. “All is forgiven, stranger. I find that I rather like keeping things professional between two people. Unbeknownst to you, I’ve already made my decision on what happens next.”

“You have?” I inquired, suppressing the growing lump in my throat with a hard swallow. “I mean, I hope it doesn’t involve me staying on this rock.”

“Oh, of course not. I am not so cruel as to leave a man to die all alone at sea.” She traced a finger over her lower lip, turning to her Blue Oni Samurai and becking her to lean in.

I didn’t have the faintest clue on what they were doing; conspiring against me, probably. Perhaps they too wished for me to do something. I’ve developed into an errand boy overnight, so what’s the problem with doing everyone’s chores too, while I’m at it?

As I looked onward, hands shoved in my pockets, I watched as the two of them spoke back and forth, their tones hushed and indecipherable as I waited.

Finally, the Danuki pulled away from the Blue Warrior, returning her attention back to me. The shadow around her eyes only seemed to grow darker as she began to speak, her eyes glistening in the dim dawn light.

“We will assist you, stranger.” She began, craning her head downwards. “However, I’m going to have to ask you a few questions before you come aboard.”

“Ask away.” I replied.

“First,” The Racoon Girl started, leaning up against the railing. “What is your name?”

Introductions, eh? Simple enough.

“I’ve grown familiar with the name ‘Rocket.’” I said simply, crossing my arms. “It sure as hell beats some of the other things I’ve been called.”

“Such as?”

“Well, ‘Young Man,’ for one. It’s what this old guy’s calling me for a few weeks now; took me on a boat before everything went to shit.”

“Oh?” She hummed, placing a hand underneath her chin and motioning me to continue. “Consider me curious. Care to elaborate?”

I wonder if I had said too much. What would I tell her? That I’m sort of otherworldly freak that didn’t have a soul? That the Order got a hold of me and we’re about to send my ass off to train for a quest I didn’t even want to do? Undead sailors rising from the depths in derelict ships and armed to the teeth with blades and black powder guns?

Fuck, how I missed it when the world made sense.

“I’ll give you the short version; you’ll have to forgive me since everything is fuzzy at best,” I said as I uncrossed my arms. “I was in a boat and it got attacked; everyone died.”

Her smile promptly fell at that.

“How…” She stood still, her mouth agape. “How can you say that in such listless manner?”

I shrugged. “I’ve learn to accept how quickly things can change in an instant.”

Unfortunate?

Yes, quite so as a matter of fact.

War was a terrible thing; it didn’t help that this world seemed to be in a constant state of it, perpetual and unending strife- weighs down upon the heart, doesn’t it?

The Tanuki still remained standing, unflinching as her shoulders began to suddenly shake. “That’s….that’s…”

“Unfortunate, cruel, nigh impossible ever since the transformation happened?” I started, “Maybe, but the world’s a big place; it shouldn’t surprise you that death is still an omnipresent factor in it. War, Famine, Disease...pick your poison.”

“Enough!” She finally barked, jabbing her finger at me and gritting her teeth. “I’ve heard enough; I will have someone bring you onboard. Perhaps I can also give you a lesson in etiquette and bestow some empathy upon you.”

OK, MOM.

\-----

Not too long after, a long wooden raft came into view, drifting from the port side of the bune before making its way towards me. Already inside were two occupants, paddles in hand as they rowed the little boat, creating large splashes in the water with every dipping movement of their oars. Growing closer, I noticed that they too, were Oni, although red. Garbed in hardened leather armor, they looked similar to the samurai from Japanese history; if samurai were seven feet tall ogres with a crimson skin, sharp teeth, silver hair, gold eyes, and carried massive spiked kanabo as their weapons, then they were doing a damn fine job at being faithful to the look.

When they approached the shore, they cast aside their oars, hastily marching up to me before seizing my arms and legs.

“Hey, hey, hey!” I cried in alarm. “What’s going on here!”

Both of them stopped and looked up at each other, suddenly shifting their gazes down at me, their lips spreading into a toothy grin as they began to chuckle deeply. I was promptly manhandled for a good ten or so feet and tossed into the raft. Before I could stand, one of them promptly shoved me down and roughly wrapped my wrists with thick rope. It was then that I began to kick, only to have the other one approach and easily catch my foot in her massive hand.

Ah, fuck.

“You no struggle, you no get hurt.” The first one said roughly.

“Yes. Sooner on boat, sooner we drink.” The second one continued.

“SAKE, TONIGHT!” Both of them roared, breaking out into a deafening chortle.

Oh, how lovely.

\------

 

“Good work, Hidari!” The Tanuki exclaimed, tucking her arms into her broad sleeves and smiling. “Excellent job, Migi!”

The two oni, who I now knew as Hidari and Migi respectively, merely grunted. With a quick huff, they turned, walking away to some place inside the ship- the exact location I knew nought.

“I must insist on keeping you bound, stranger.” The Raccoon Girl said, reaching down and giving me a few solid taps on my helmet before standing upright. “Until I deem you as nonviolent to me or my crew, you will have eyes on you at all times.” She paused, the dimness around her eyes growing as she clicked her tongue in thought. “I am Masumi Arishima, daughter to the Daimyo of the Arishima Merchant Clan.”

“Pleased to meet you.” I growled, shaking my head. “So am I being rescued or being held hostage?”

“Neither.” Masumi replied simply. “As I said, until I get to know you better, then you are going to be guarded for the duration of this voyage. If you are of no threat to us, then I will have your bindings cut.” The Danuki regained that smug look on her face; whether she was being polite or condescending, I wasn’t sure. Either way, she turned away from me, flicking her large bushy tail across my chest before calling out to someone in her native tongue. With that done, she faced me and continued. “Nakasone-kun will take you to my lounge, where you will be cleaned and receive food and drink. I may be firm, but I am fair as well.”

As soon as those words left Masumi’s lips, I felt myself being lifted off the ground once more, before being slung over the shoulder of some heavily armored, big-boobed blue oni with long hair.

“This is as unnecessary as it is ridiculous, Ma’am.” I stated flatly as I was carried off.

The bushy-tailed noble could only smile and wave at my discomfort, giggling faintly as the leaf on her head began to wiggle. “I’ll see you soon, Rocket. I look forward to learning all about you and your journey thus far.”

It was then that I heard the soft jingling of a coin purse as she sauntered away, her wooden sandals tapping and clicking all across the deck as she moved.

Damn, I miss Ciro already.


	27. 27

Chapter 27

 

\-------------

I couldn’t remember the last time I had a proper shower. When the prospect of being able to clean myself arose, an acute sense of elation welled up inside me. Still, as I glanced down at the bindings wrapped around my wrists, the feeling died. It made me feel like I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to, rather it was merely because Masumi wished it to be so. Like a plaything, I felt. Yet, I surmised that if I wanted to keep myself in her somewhat good graces, I would have to make sure that the novelty of me being here didn’t wear off. Everything seemed simple, seemingly enough. Better not take any chances and do what I’m told- as long as I agree with it.

The Blue Oni known as Nakasone finally plopped me down in the middle of a room; the Tanuki’s lounge, if I had recalled correctly. Pillows of all sizes, oriental and elaborate, outlined the edges of the area, tucked into positions meant for laying down or sitting. Directly in front of me was a low rectangular table crafted from some sort of dark wooded tree, six vacant pillows placed all around it.

“Undress.” She ordered, her voice firm.

“I thought you didn’t know how to speak my language.” I replied, eyeing her armored form up and down, my eyebrows raised in curiosity behind the dark glass of my visor.

 

“I’m not as fluent in it as Arishima-sama.” Nakasone replied. She reached up and undid the straps of her helmet, taking it off and shaking loose the long silver locks that cascaded down her face in thick strands. “Now, as I said, undress.”

I chuckled, raising up my bound hands in front of her face. “Hard to take off a jacket when you can’t remove your arms from the sleeves, don’t you think?”

Her eyes suddenly hardened, her stare sharpening as she met my gaze with her own. Ultimately, common sense won out. I was indeed the champion of logic around these parts; that was saying something.

In one swift move, before I could even blink, she had unsheathed her tanto and slashed my bindings. They fell to the floor, and as I rubbed my wrists I felt the blade being pressed firmly into my stomach. Firm enough so that I get the message, yet soft so that I didn’t get stabbed, the horned blue lady leaned in, growling.

“If you ever think about running, or raising your hand to anyone on this ship, I will personally throw you overboard.”

“I-I get the message.” I stammered, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down my brow.

“Good.” She whispered, withdrawing the tip of the blade from my stomach and turning around. “There is a small basin of hot water to the left of you. I do not expect you to know Zipanguese bathing customs, so just clean yourself.”

With that, she left me, presumably to guard the outside door in case anyone tried to come in or I tried to leave. There was only one way out, so it figures.

Sighing, I began to remove my clothes. When I flipped up the visor, I caught the faintest whiff of mint, lightly intermingled with the woody smell of nutmeg and tobacco. The scent wasn’t unpleasant, rather it was actually pretty calming. Taking off my helmet and resting it on the table, I began to unbutton my jacket.

That’s when the metallic miasma of dried blood began to fill the room.

The leather of the jacket was torn and ripped to shit, salt stains covered the lining, the shirt underneath crusty with seawater and bodily fluids.

My shirt, my beautiful idgaf shirt was ruined. A giant hole tore its way through the fabric in the upper right shoulder, ripping downwards to the point the garment might as well have been a two-piece.

Come to think of it, everything was destroyed. Rips and tears in my jeans, dried splotches of blood, dirt, grime, sand...all I could think about was why nobody had mentioned it sooner! Probably because my jacket covered most of it, and the pants were dark enough. Hopefully, I would be able to save face later; don’t think that Masumi had a spare set of clothes lying around.

Now standing in nothing but my underwear, I brushed a hand over my shoulder noticing that despite the potion healing the wounds, that was all it was capable of. It repaired the tissue, sped up the healing process- that was all. The largest, reddest scar I have ever seen extended from shoulder to nipple in a vertical slash. Due to the anime-like appearance everyone had in this world, including myself, I noticed that certain features of mine tended to be exaggerated. Much like this scar or my resting facial expression. Picking up my helmet and staring at my reflection, I realized I hadn’t seen myself ever since I came into this world.

So when I saw that my expression more or less looked like Saitama’s serious face, I cried out in alarm, tossing my helmet into a nearby stack of pillows before taking a broad step back. Patting down my head, I sighed in relief; at least I still had my hair. Regardless, I could fuck around making facial expressions in the mirror later; still needed to wash up.

To the right of me was a small wooden basin filled with steaming hot water, a washcloth folded neatly next to it. Lying to the side of that was a bowl of some sweet and spicy smelling powder. If I could relate it to anything, it reminded me of cinnamon- if it was mixed in with a copious amount of ginger.

I wasn’t sure exactly how to use it. I assumed that it functioned like baby powder. That is to say, it prevented chafing and excess moisture from coming through after one bathed.

Huh, seemed easy enough.

When I reached towards the water, I was surprised to see that all too familiar gauntlet encasing my hand. It was so fucking useless now, seeing as it operated on the user's blood and provided no other function than to drug you up with rage serum and blood coagulants.

“Stupid glorified mitten…” I grumbled, trying to figure out how to take it off. “Retarded, useless, underpowered…”

A foot long blade suddenly shot forth from some hidden scabbard within the armored-hand, barely missing the side of my face as I recoiled in shock.

Definitely forgot about that function.

A small smile came to my face as I realized what that now meant: they didn’t disarm me. They think that it’s just a simple piece of iron. But it wasn’t; it was a multi-purpose piece of magic tech that functioned as a combat amplifier, fear suppressant, and sword all in one.

Now that I knew if worse came to worse, I would be able to defend myself if I totally botched Varon’s task.

Ciro showed me how to use this part, seems like ages ago now. With the skull turned upwards, I pressed down, causing the sharp metal bit to slide back into the hidden compartment with relative ease. This was going to make things easier, hopefully.

Now, how do I get this thing off in the meantime?

\-----

Long story short, I took a sponge bath and powdered myself with the fancy stuff in the bowl. I was just sliding on my underwear and putting on the gauntlet when the woman herself walked in on me.

“Oh my, don’t you look much better already?” Masumi giggled, her shadowed gaze resting on me. “My apologies for just now mentioning this, but you were quite filthy.”

“I noticed.” I replied, pointing a thumb to my discarded clothes. “Got any extra? Doesn’t seem productive to put on disgusting shit after I just cleaned myself.”

“Language, Rocket.” The Tanuki hummed, closing her eyes. “I believe that I might have an extra outfit of men’s clothing around here somewhere. I will have Nakasone-kun bring it to you at once.” She paused, eyeing my limbs. “For now, however…” The leaf upon her head wiggled, and suddenly the cord at my feet shot up and wrapped itself around my arms once more.

“For fuck's sake, Lady.” I growled. “I’m not a threat to you!”

“Please,” The Raccoon Girl began with a smirk. “Call me Arishima-sama; it’s proper etiquette, you know.”

“Are you serious?” I shook my head. “Fine, Arishima-SAMA. I mean neither you nor your crew any harm. I’m just trying to get somewhere.”

“And where would that be?” Masumi inquired, gesturing for me to take a seat across from her.

Not wanting to start anything, I obliged.

“Far away from here.” Came my curt reply.

“How far?” She asked, reaching into her Kimono and removing a long, slender pipe. “Could we sail to it within a month, a fortnight even?”

“Hm, you couldn’t reach it.”

The Tanuki’s smile widened as she sprinkled some black leaves into the end of her pipe, her tail shaking swiftly as a small flame rose from her fingertips. Giving it a few brisk puffs, she sighed and tucked her bangs behind her ear. “Vague answers will not get you anywhere, Rocket-kun.”

“I’m not being vague so much as I’m not convinced you’d believe me if I told you the truth.” I replied, interlacing my fingers and leaning forward. “And to be honest, I don’t trust you enough to know what your actions would be if you learned what I really was.”

Her ears twitched at this, and I could see her amber eyes softening as she blinked and processed my response. A tiny fang protruded from her upper lip, giving her a snaggletooth like appearance as before she suddenly turned around and clapped her hands.

“Well then, why don’t we partake in something I’ve arranged for us?” Masumi said, clearing her throat. “I hope you like Udon.”

I relaxed at this, swallowing the growing lump in my throat and nodding. “I’m familiar with the dish, yes.”

A heavenly smell filled the room, and it took all my power not to show that I had been starving. However, my rumbling stomach was a dead give away.

Masumi leaned in, giving me a knowing look as smugness radiating off of her seem to dwindle down. “My, you look quite peckish. Luckily for you, my chef is the finest man to ever grace Nami Province. He’s won the Nami Fish Festival Competition for three consecutive years.”

“You honor me with your words, Arishima-sama.” A voice murmured, its tone overly humble and reserved. “I will forever be in your debt for what you have done for me and my family.”

“Make no mention of it, Goto-san.” The Raccoon girl chuckled, gingerly waving her fingertips at the man who had entered the room, two steaming bowls in each hand as he approached the table.

He was an older gentlemen; wrinkles and frown lines detailed his face, dark brown eyes staring out from sunken sockets and looking all around the room with analytical care and caution. He wore a loose fitting shirt that parted way down the middle, showing off a broad barreled chest that was unfitting for a man his age. The sandals on his feet tapped lightly on the floor as he leaned down, continuing his task of resting the dishes on the table before continuing. “Your favorite, Arishima-sama: Kitsune Udon topped with aburaage, tempura, and kakiage. The broth is at an optimal temperature so the flavor comes forth boldly, almost boiling.” He turned to me, bowing. “Please enjoy, Sir.”

“Thank you, Goto-san.” Masumi spoke gently, turning to me. “That will be all.”

“Yes, Arishima-sama.” Goto replied, promptly turning on his heel and leaving.

“He speaks my language well.” I noticed, watching as he left.

“Goto-san is a good man.” Masumi nodded, blowing smoke from her pipe and licking her lips. “I found him in Kiyaso- not that you would know.” She shook her head. “His family was consumed with debt as a result of their landowner overworking them; too much work to be done in so little time, naturally they weren’t able to meet quota. As a result, the landowner sent his men to ‘take what was rightfully his.’”

“Fisherman, I’m assuming?” I asked, gingerly raised the jade ladle to my lips and taking a sip of broth.

Damn, this was good.

The Tanuki hummed in the affirmative, still smoking her pipe as she continued. “Indeed. I came across them on a business trip through the province. I paid off their financial obligation in exchange for their work, ‘talked’ with the owner, and brought Goto-san with me so that he may have a steady source of income to send to his family.”

“You seem like a good person.” I noted, smiling softly. Perhaps I had misjudged her; she didn’t seem all that bad, despite her attitude. Hell, I wasn’t acting my best either, maybe it would be in my best interest just to tell her- minus the part about Varon.

“I do what I have to.” Masumi said as a-matter-of-factly, her eyes darkening as removed her pipe from her lips. “Now, let me hear more about you. I’ll suspend my disbelief if only to hear what you have to say.” She narrowed her eyes. “But do not lie to me, for I will know. Should you do so, I will not be happy.”

“Noted.” I said, nodding my head.

So, where to begin?


	28. 28

A/N: Moar.

 

Chapter 28

 

\-------------

Where to begin?

Where to end?

You know, it’s funny; I’ve always been put on the spot. Each time it happens I like to think I do rather well, all things considered. However, that was a long time ago. Hell, that was a time in which I didn’t see things. Horrible things. They’ll never leave my mind, I reckon...perhaps they will stay with me forever. I shouldn’t be so lucky. I’ve been so caught up in the now, I never really gave any time to myself to think about the situations I constantly found myself in.

And the more I thought about it, the more I could feel the hurt bubbling up inside. The bottle of feelings that I corked up seemed to resurface with a more intensive vigor, and I found myself casting my gaze downwards as the floor suddenly seemed more interesting than the woman across from me.

“Complete honesty?” I repeated, flicking my stare up towards her, my expectant stare burning holes into her soul.

Masumi paused, removing the tip of the pipe from her lips as she rested it down upon the table. And as she stared back, I could see the shadows around her eyes to be receding, the cause of which I do not know.

“Complete honesty.” She repeated, leaning forward and resting her delicate hands on my own. “I promise you, no harm will be done to you if you are simply truthful with me. I may be a Tanuki, but truly I am a being who has everyone’s best interests at heart.”

I felt a sigh escape my lips, my hands tightening underneath her own as I shook my head.

Every author sets the tone for their story. Some tales aren’t wonderful, neither do they have a happily ever after where everyone wins. There are lighthearted stories with insidious nature, nursery rhymes that use euphemisms and metaphors to allude to death and destruction. If for no other reason than to convey the subject matter to a younger audience, I assumed I would have to do the same. But I’m not telling a story; I’m stating the facts.

“Have you ever seen a man die, Arishima-sama?”

She seemed to wince at that, like I had struck a kind of nerve which had since gone long unfelt. Pushing her bowl to the side, she stared at me, her lips curved upwards into a snarl; the question was disgusting, I assumed.

“What are you going on about, Rocket-kun?” Masumi asked, placing the pipe back in her mouth and giving it a few brisk puffs. “What does this have to do with you?”

“I’ve been here awhile.” I replied, forcing myself to form a smile. It felt fake. “In all my life I never would have thought to see death; not in the sense in which it revealed itself to me. I expected my parents to die, of course. But peacefully- in their sleep.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Yet, it came in the form of a three way intersection between Corks Street and James Avenue. An accident caused by my own hand, my own stupidity, landed me here.” Leaning forward, I continued. “They say that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. For me, well, I dare say that it didn’t happen at all.”

“Rocket…” The Tanuki began softly, opening her mouth to speak but seemingly unable to find the words. “Please…”

“Then the next thing I know, everything goes by in a blur. The pain is sharp, but brief. I open my eyes and I’m here, in a goddamn fantasy land surrounded by you freaks. Nothing I have ever come to known has stayed the same, except for one damn thing, just one goddamned little thing.”

I motioned to stand, she reached out, and the smalls hands in which she retook me with only seem to clutch tighter. She wasn’t prepared to let go, or rather perhaps she wasn’t ready for a fight. Either way, I settled down.

“I’m fuckin’ alone here, Masumi.” I gritted my teeth, tears threatening to come forth. Suppressing them burned. “Each moment that passes, it all gets worse. The things I’ve done till this point, the things I’ve seen...there’s a war I’m fighting.”

I shook my head. “And I don’t think I can win.”

Silence lingered in the room, and nothing but the sound of our own mutual breaths filled my ears. Perhaps I was being melodramatic, but deep down I don’t think I could have conveyed it any other way.

When I looked back towards her, Masumi was slouched against the table, pipe at her side as she directed a solemn glance towards the floor. Her wayward eyes were now fully undarkened, yet now possessed a hardness within then I had not seen before. Then, she looked at me.

“I can relate.” She said simply, her voice solemn. “I’ve traveled all the world, sailed upon stormy seas and through the dawn and dusk of an untold amount of days. For four hundred years, I have made it my life’s work to make a profit. And in each and every one of them, I have met someone who had managed to shape my life the way it is now. We all have our own problems and tribulations that must be dealt with, through ourselves or others; it matters not.” She brought her legs underneath herself, shifting her position into a seiza. “I am no stranger to tragedy, Rocket.”

She began stroking my hands, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table as she stared into my eyes. “This too, shall pass. You come off as a strong young man; you shall be alright.”

“You’d be surprised how many times I’ve heard the exact same thing.” I replied, blinking slowly. I found solace in her words, my newfound courage manifesting itself into a faint smile upon my lips. “Do you believe that I’m telling the truth now?”

“I do.” Masumi began, beginning to unravel my bindings personally. “I’ve been listening to your heartbeat for our entire conversation. I appreciate your honesty; opening up to a stranger is not easy.”

She scooted forward even closer as her ears continued to twitch. Upon noticing this, she reached up, pinching them gently as if coaxing them to stop. As she did this, I stood up, leaned over the table, and embraced her.

“W-What are you doing, Rocket-kun?” The Tanuki stammered, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as she placed a hand on my chest.

“Where I’m from, we hug people who did us good.” I held her tighter. “A big ol’ bear hug; Thanks, Arishima-sama.”

“Idiot!” She shouted, her voice muffled from her position in my arms. “This is not proper etiquette!”

With a chuckle, I let her go, folding my arms and watching her as she stumbled away heaving. “M’bad, Masumi.”

“M-My first name, too! Yeesh, you foreigners are clearly culturally unaware!”

Her tail was swishing back and forth rapidly, the shadow covering her eyes returned in full force. Something else was mixed in with her flaring emotions: the dimmest blush I’ve ever seen graced her cheeks, and as quickly as it came it was gone just as fast.

“Do not do that again!” She growled, backing away from me. “You are still a stranger to me, one I only recently put my faith into. I’m still going to have my personnel keep an eye on you!”

I could only shrug. “Go ahead, I’ve got nothing against you or your people. You’ve done nothing but help me out this far.”

Masumi bit her bottom lip, nodding her head slowly. “Good. Now, you’ve been stranded on that island for a while, right? You should sleep in a proper bed! I don’t know of any extras on this ship, so you must share a futon with Goto-san!”

“Not an issue.” I replied, nodding. “But isn’t it early in the morning? Shouldn’t I just stay up and-”

“GO TO BED!” She roared, throwing a pillow at me with the force of a thousand falling stars. It bounced rather harmlessly off my face, however; I was just too damn resilient. Not wanting to anger her, and for the sake of avoiding an argument, I defensively raised my hands in front of me and nodded.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Came my cry, beginning to hustle on over to the exit.

“And wear this while you’re at it, too!”

A simple white tunic and pair of beige breeches came sailing through the air behind me, landing on me perfectly draped. My helmet and boots came soon after.

Looking at the clothing, my eyes all but bulged out of their sockets as I stared in disbelief at what she had given me. What the hell kind of outfit was this? A pallete swap with Gaston from Beauty and the Beast? These pants will cling to my ass! Fuck, whatever. At least it beats wearing a damn weeb outfit.

\------

I walked outside garbed in my new outfit. Needless to say, I was trying to pull the fabric from my crack every ten seconds to no avail. Damn, if this thing wasn’t giving me a wedgie then I don’t know what was. Thankfully the tunic covered it up for the most part; I couldn’t bear walking out in public if it hadn’t.

The two Aka Oni, Hidari and Migi, were currently in the middle of some conversation in their native tongue. A characteristic of which was the curt and short sentences in which they spoke. Much like the way they spoke my language, it sounded rough, yet was clear enough so that I would understand what they would be saying if they were speaking English. A key characteristic of telling which one was by their hair. Hidari had long hair that was parted to the left; Migi had hers on the right. Hidari perked up as she caught me staring, nudging her sister and pointing to me.

No sense it hiding it now.

“Arishima-sama saw it fit to have me released from custody.” I joked, raising my unbound arms up in front of them.

“Clothes different. Don’t care. Boss does what boss does.” Migi grunted, crossing her arms in front of her massive chest. Damn, she had big biceps.

“You no bad man in Boss’ Eyes.” Hidari nodded. “Acquaintance, then. What you do now?”

“She wants me to go to bed.” I replied.

They both grunted in unison, glancing at each other with an unidentifiable look in their eyes before they shifted their gazes to me.

“That no sound like fun.” Migi said.

“Yeah, you drink sake?” Hidari continued, her face contorted in one of expectancy.

“I drink alcohol, if that’s what you’re wondering.” I said, my voice filled with uncertainty. “Why?”

They grinned, their pearly whites glistening in the morning light as they giggled.

“We on break.” Said Migi.

“Sake break.” Hidari added.

“Is that so?” I took a step back, feeling a bead of perspiration trickle down my brow. “It’s kinda early in the morning to be doing that, don’t you think?”

“Not early enough.” Came the reply in unison.

God, that was eerie. It kinda freaked me out, too.

“As much as I would love to join you fine ladies in your quest to consume as much alcohol as possible, I’m afraid that I must follow the orders of Arishima-sama and go to sleep.” I rubbed the back of my head, smiling sheepishly before turning around.

Just walk away and don't turn around. Act like you don’t really care. Yeah, that oughta work.

“Drink Sake in bed?” Hidari inquired, nudging her sister. “Sounds like good idea, huh, Migi?”

Migi huffed, her lower canines protruding from her lips as she pouted. “Good point in long time, Hidari. We come with him.”

I turned around.

“No, I’m fine.” I began, shaking my head. “Nope, negatory, nein, nyet-”

“Little man shut mouth hole.” They both ordered, grabbing me by my arms and carting me off to their quarters. “We have contest.”

Fuck me, where was that ring?


	29. 29 (Uncensored)

A/N: This part is SFW, I swear.

Chapter 29 (Interlude)

 

\-------------

 

She stood upon fields which were once lively and verdant, now blushing with all the vibrancy that a multitude of pinkish and reddish hues could provide. What was once natural became something she perceived as being far more beautiful and familiar to her, much like the dripping vines her mother grew in the castle gardens at Royal Makai. And as she sat upon the oozing and levitating black throne she had crafted from her own hand, she occupied herself with the other. The violaceous nails of her fingertips, long and sharp, lightly traced the darkened runes etched upon her pale, rosy chest. Inhaling sharply, she closed her eyes and bit her lip, soothingly running her slender hands along her smooth shoulders, shifting to her lithe and shapely hips before finally cupping her-

A sound akin to that of an elongated hiss reached her pointed ears, causing her to turn around and stare as a billowing ebony mist hovered above the ground at ankle level. Just like that, a form began to shift and flicker, taking shape amidst the thick wafts of smoke and steam. And, by the time Druella, Fourth Princess of the Demon Realm and Mistress of Lescatie opened her other eye, a rather peculiar baphomet stood where the fog was the thickest.

Geraldine.

She wasn’t like the others; especially not after the little incident that occurred when she had paid her elder sister a visit. Oh, how she loved to rule in that little fantasy world of hers- her so called ‘Wonderland.” That little woman needed to get out more often and see the bigger world, get a little taste of reality and indulge in all it had to offer! Geraldine, bless her heart, fell for one of her sister’s elaborate ‘pranks.’ The little goat girl always did have a fondness for chocolate, especially when it came to cake. Imagine the rather horrifying shock she had when, upon taking a bite, she had turned from a little lady into a fully grown woman.

My, fully grown indeed.

She was a tenacious thing, Geraldine. Ever since her ‘transformation,’ her mannerisms and attitude had developed into that of a middle aged woman. She reminded the Princess of her mother...if her mother was subservient to her and spoke only when spoken to. The thought of it left a conflicting feeling within the daughter of the Demon Lord. After all, she wanted to be treated as an equal, not some little girl who was over her head.

The Baphomet offered the Lilim a gentle smile, taking a knee and dipping her head low. Umber bangs draped down her lovely face in luscious coils, parting midway and revealing her yellow eyes that literally glowed in amethyst light. Whenever she moved, the quiet jingling of the chain that connected her pauldrons together rang into the air like a whisper, followed by the muffled thud of her cloven hooves as she stood upright. Her hair was quite lengthy, even by Druella’s standards; silken strands cascaded from her head and ran down the length of her toned back, nestling themselves against her abs before coming to a stop just before the reached the ground.

Upon noticing this, Geraldine sighed, grabbing her locks with a sharp padded paw covered in thick, well-groomed fur. With a flick of her neck, all the hair, much like drapes or a curtain being parted, slung behind her back, easily falling into place as she carefully resumed standing. Her attire was minimal, to say the least, not that she needed the protection anyway. Two ram skulls were placed atop the blackened pauldrons upon her shoulders, fastened against a sort of maroon iron choker that ended with a rather ornate upside down cross, a golden eye placed neatly in the center. The piece was nestled between her ample bosom, which was covered by a sort of chainmail bra that barely contained her breasts. She carried in her other paw a massive scythe, the purple and black blade emitting wafts of gaseous dark matter, dark droplets falling to the earth and dissipating in small stygian puffs. To top it all off, there was a rune in the form of a jagged heart that shifted in the form of a cross half way down; it pulsed a deep crimson before it finally came to a halt. Her thick thighs were also armored, for appearances sake, Druella supposed. She had to leave something to the imagination, after all. 

In the back of her mind, the Lilim suppressed a pang of jealousy that had risen; her boobs were big, and she was proud of the fact. Yet, they weren’t that big. What was she, part holstaur?

The Princess grinned, curling her long prehensile tail inwards and twirling two fingers into her ivory locks. “Sweet Geraldine,” She giggled. “Are you trying to catch me in the act once again?”

 

“ I should say I wouldn’t have minded if I had, Mistress,” She replied, her voice alluring and full of resonance. “You summoned me?”

“Indeed.” Druella replied, nodding her head. “I would like you to be a dear and go fetch something for me…” She sighed, shrugging her shoulders and clasping her hands together. “I suppose there’s no beating around the bush, is there? Please go fetch me my future husband, will you, darling?”

Geraldine remained silent for the longest time, staring at Druella as she watched her Mistress’ pink flesh deepen with rosy blush. As she did so, she gradually began to smile, showing off her pearly whites and giving a single nod of her head. “Of course, Mistress. It would be my greatest honor to help you get your destined one.”

“Thank you, my love.” Druella sighed happily, clicking her high heels together and folding a leg over another. “Here’s what he looks like.”

With a flick of her hand, the photograph that was in her possession flitted free from her grasp, drifting through the air before landing upon the awaiting furry digit of the Baphomet.

“My, how interesting.” Geraldine commented, staring at the picture through half-lidded eyes. “His attire is unlike anything I have ever seen; that is why you wish to have him as your own, I’m assuming?”

“Oh, if only you knew the half of it.” The Lilim smiled, licking her lips. “There’s something that I find very...personal about him. Despite not even meeting him, I dare say that he was meant for me.”

The Goat Girl chuckled, placing a paw over her mouth as she gaze still lingered upon the image before shifting to her Mistress. “When I find him, Lady Druella, may I play with him and test his skill? I desire to know if he truly is something special.”

“My Sweet,” Druella began, “I would be offended if you didn’t. It’s the least I can do to try and make up for the actions of my elder sibling. Truly, I do not believe she knew what she was doing. The thing can be rather socially inept, you see. Why, ever since we were both little she has always been different. Give her time to grow; she’ll change, I’m sure of it.”

Geraldine’s grin grew larger. “Thank you, My Lady, I shall enjoy myself.” She paused, tucking her bangs behind her goat-like ears. “Do you have his last known location? It would make things smoother; even the coldest trail is like a kindling fire when I walk upon it.”

“Which is why I am entrusting this task to you, Geraldine.” The Lilim replied, rising from her throne and gently lowering herself to the floor. “This is a very delicate matter. Should you be sighted in your current form, or linger too long in one place, then I’m afraid those poor and misguided souls of the Order will realize we are after what they believe is theirs. Oh, I don’t want my future partner to become a brutal monster slayer. I don’t want anyone to get hurt; death is such a horrible thing, especially when they do not fully understand all the pleasures of the world- the ones found in each other most of all.”

“I understand, Mistress.” The grown baphomet replied. “You will have your prize and I will have the journey I so desperately desired.” She nestled up close to her leader, embracing her in a tight hug and whispering in her ear. “When his skin is upon yours, when you feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, you will know that I have succeeded.”

“Oh, Gods,” Druella whimpered, raising her slender finger to her mouth and biting down on it. “Your reward shall be great, Geraldine. I might have to let you perchance a taste of your own.”

The Man-Hunter merely chuckled and ran her tongue over her teeth. “Your praise is reward enough, but I might just have to take you up on that offer.”

“It fills me with joy to hear you say that, dear.” The Mistress of Lescatie smiled. “His last known location was in Lucio Province, one of the four provinces under the banners of the Kingdom of Jalicho. From recent reports, it seems that all their Lords are off fighting a fool’s battle far up north. With their leadership gone, it should be rather easy to get a foothold within their territory. My, imagine the wondrous sights they will see when they get back! Mother will be so pleased to see that her Realm is expanding. It is the good daughter that takes some of the responsibility so that her parents can take of things to transform the world for the better. Wouldn’t you agree, lovely Geraldine?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Geraldine nodded. “When you finally begin receiving a man’s essence yourself, why, I dare say you might even have the potential of surpassing Her Majesty in terms of power.”

“Don’t let my father hear you saying that.” Druella chuckled. “He loves that woman to death. Have you ever heard of how my parents got together? Oh, it’s the most romantic thing I have ever heard.” She sighed, folding her hands and bringing them up to her cheeks. “Yet, mine will be all the more beautiful...the stories we will be telling to our children.”

“Say no more, My Lady.” The Baphomet responded, placing a hand against her ample chest. “Your Love will be in your arms sooner than you think.”

With that, the Hunter abruptly collapsed into a thick mound of smoke, dissipating across the floor before finally being carried off by the wayward wind.

The Fourth Princess of the Demon Realm and Mistress of Lescatie watched her subordinate fade from view, waiting until the last puff of smoke had disappeared from her sight before finally turning around.

“Keeping up this facade is so tiring…” She mumbled, closing her eyes and rubbing her neck. With a wave of her hand, her throne promptly appeared. Upon sitting down, she reached down, grabbing a file for her nails. “You’ve needed this for a long time, Druella.” She muttered to herself, beginning to give herself a manicure. “Once you get this adorable, unknown little morsel, you can have your way with him however you like. Make him your slave, do the chores, get married, start a family, bear his children…” She paused, feeling her face begin to burn. “Who am I kidding?” She gushed to herself. “It will be so nice not being alone for once, then my siblings will stop chastising me for being unmarried and not settling down! With the power I...WE will get from each other, we will be unstoppable.”

This was already becoming one of the most anticipated moments of her entire life. She had waited so long for this, centuries of building her armies and taking land from that accursed Order. Most of it was due to her own self admitted procrastination, but she digressed. How lovely it would be, to put the misguided on the right path, and forge a better world for all in happy, blissful, and hyper sexual coexistence.

With a shake of her head, Druella snapped herself out of her outward ramblings. “I really need to stop talking to myself," She blinked. "It’s unhealthy.”


	30. 30

Chapter 30

 

\-------------

I felt like a piece of meat sandwiched between two slices of thick red bread. Suffocating, I supposed, yet highly warm and comfortable. Heh, so this is what being an anime protagonist felt like. Couldn’t say I really enjoyed it; everyone acts childish during these moments. I like the opposite sex just as much as the next guy, but I didn’t like being forced. And that’s what resulted in my next course of action.

“Seriously, let me go.” I growled, wriggling roughly in my space between their bodies. I was wedged between two solid forms of flesh and muscle. Hardy, yet surprisingly soft. “Really, not feelin’ up for a drink right now.”

“Nonsense.” Migi chuckled mirthfully, wrapping her sizeable arm around my neck and bringing me close. “Humans love drinking. Oni love drinking. Humans and Oni good for each other.”

“Yes.” Hidari jumped in, reaching around my waist and giving my hips a slight, tangible squeeze. “Bonding with new friend important in Oni culture.”

The two took both my arms hand in hand, lifting me off the ground and proceeding down the corridor to what I could only assume would be the crew’s quarters. If this really was going to happen, then by God I just hoped it didn’t escalate beyond a few drinks.

I paused, sighing.

Who was I kidding? They’re gonna try and do something, I just knew it. All monsters were the same, when it came down to it. Every action of theirs ultimately came down to two things: sex and a mate. Kinda repetitive, ain’t it?

There came a feeling of pleasant surprise when I realized that, rather than bringing me to bed or some sort of sex dungeon, it was a dining area. It’s appearance gave off similar vibes akin to that of the longue, the only real difference being it was less stylish and had simple floor matts rather than silk pillows. Resting upon the table was a massive clay jar, a single symbol of Kanji painted on it as the tip of the container trickled down some kind of clear fluid. Quite potent, I noticed. I never really drank sake back on my world; a couple times at a hibachi grill and that was about it. Knowing these two fine ladies, the beverage was probably going to have an alcohol volume ratio of one hundred percent. Damn, and to think most people are surprised to find out I don’t like drinking hand sanitizer.

They got to work immediately, setting me down at the head of the table before taking a seat on either side of me. Already did they whip out three jade sakazuki cups, filling the thin and wide brimmed glasses full with the vigorous drink.

“First to get drunk takes drink.” Hidari smiled, her bottom canines protruding from her lip as she licked her lips.

“That makes no sense.” I blubbered, rising from my seat.

“You not Oni.” Migi replied, reaching towards my shoulder in order to settle me back down.

“Yeah, you no understand.” Hidari continued, shaking her head.

So this was effectively a lose-lose situation? Perfect, just freaking perfect.

\------------------

Ten tiny little sips from these glasses and already I felt fucked up. My head pounded in my skull like the bass of a heavy drum, the room spinning around like a gravitron as I fumbled for another shot. “I...I don’t havesh a fuckin’ clue how I...how I…” I drawled, blinking a few times and slowly shaking my head.

“Nani?” Hidari asked, sake trickling down the sides of her mouth and cascading down her neck as she took another slurp.

“.....What?”

Migi said something in her native tongue that I didn’t understand. It must’ve been funny since her sister started choking on her drink soon after. Come to think of it, I didn’t comprehend what they were saying anymore. Was I drunk, or were they so sloshed they had reverted into a clustered mix of English and moon speak?

Maybe a little bit of both.

\------------------

Okay. I lost. I want to get off this ride. About five drinks later I was a fuckin’ mess. My body felt like it was on fire, an inferno roaring deep inside that couldn’t be quenched. Heart thudding heavily in my chest, I could feel my eyes glaze over, staring at my flushed skin with fascination as placed the final glass, now empty, upon the table.

“Alrightsh, yoush freakin...fuckin’ diddly on did itsh.” The words came slurred, hanging out my lips droopily like drool. God, I couldn’t think straight. My throat was numb; at first it burned, rather painfully I might add. But the feeling was gone. “You girlsh win. I can’t...I can’t..drink dish shit any’mo.”

The two of them simply stared at me, blush burning brightly upon their crimson cheeks before they glanced at each other. They were giggling now, albeit rather deeply. Spoke some words...said some things…

I didn’t fucking know anymore.

That’s when Hidari leaned in, giving me a forceful nudge towards the floor. Not expecting it, I fell onto my back, staring at the ceiling bleary eyed as I tried to shake the fuzz my brain. It didn’t help much. Migi followed suit, rising from her seat before sauntering over to me, her hips swaying back and forth sensually, filling my vision with eye candy.

When did the two of them take their armor off?

Well this was happening?

I lifted my arms weakly, attempting to prop myself up only to have Hidari shift both of my arms over my head, pinning them between her chest as she slid my upper back on her slender, spacious lap. She slid her hand down my chest, her nails raking down my abdomen before stopping at the midsection. Softly, did her hands cup my chin, forcing me to look her in the eyes as our gazes met. Her golden orbs were smouldering, the pupils shifting into tiny hearts as she smiled her toothy smile. Anime physics were otherworldly and strange, that was for sure.

The air became thick with the scent of sake and musk, tingling my nose as I deeply breathed it all in. Everything was cloudy; I couldn’t control myself, even if I wanted to. I knew this was going to happen! Yet, I just stood there and took it. Why do I keep letting myself be pushed around? Enough was enough…

Migi was now upon me, squatting over me and resting her forearms on her knees. The air grew hotter...in more places than one.

“Rocket-kun.” A voice called from just beyond the room, causing me to crane my head upwards and see who it was.

Goto.

The old chef stood there, a giant pot in his hands as he wordlessly opened his mouth at the sight of me getting fondled. Gently did he lean down, placing the cauldron onto the floor before he stood up, straightening his back and pointing at the two Aka-Oni.

He barked out something in his native tongue, causing the sisters to abruptly stop what they were doing and turn to him. It was quite the spectacle to watch something unfold when you couldn’t understand what was going on. However, I think I got the gist of it; they were arguing.

This went on for a few brief moments, before ultimately the Oni got fed up and began to gather their belongings. Damn, if they didn’t easily swing two hundred pound armor easily over their shoulders.

“Awsh shucksh,” I laughed breathily. “Better luck nexsht time, huh?”

They paused, both of them shooting me a look behind their shoulders. And, with a voice so sultry and hot they spoke to me in unison.

“Soon.”

I suppressed the urge to swallow the lump in my throat. Well, if that wasn’t damn terrifying.

“Rocket-kun.” Goto began, watching the Oni as they left. “How are you? You appear to be quite inebriated. Please, let me get you to my room.” He hefted my arm over his shoulder, half carrying, half dragging me along with him. “You should know better not to get into a drinking match with Oni.”

“Noted.” I slurred, shaking my head. “Like yoush canst says no to such pretty facesh.”

“You’d be surprised.” The Chef replied, chuckling. “Come, my room is this way.”

For being a chef on a wooden boat, Goto’s room was surprisingly spacious. Paper lanterns hung delicately on the ceiling, swaying back and forth as we bobbed in the sea, the room cast in dull yellow light. Smack dab in the middle of his quarters was a large futon, easily able to fit two or three people if you felt like it. Masumi treated her people well, that was for certain. Upon the walls were racks that held a numerous assortment of cooking utensils. Knives, chopsticks, cleavers- all were polished and clean neatly and put into height descending order. On the opposite side of the room was a shelf, jars of spices and herbs unfamiliar to me resting upon it. He must’ve stored his stuff in the place he slept.

“Unorthodox,” Goto began, giving me a firm slap on the back. “But convenient.” He led me to the mattress, easing me down upon it as a muffled groan escaped my lips. “Would you like some water, Rocket-kun? Sake brewed by Oni tends to give us normal humans a rather painful headache the morning after.”

“Fucksh yeah, bro.” I slurred, nodding my head.

The Man blinked, clearly surprised at my use of unrestricted profanity. Clearly he thought I was just another rude foreigner at this point. Ah well, I was drunk and sick to my stomach; deal with it, old man.

Lying down on this bed was super comfortable, and as the room slowly stopped spinning, I felt my vision become blurry- time to resign myself to rest.

 

\---

With slumber came nightmares. A whirling vortexes surged uncontrollably within my brain, tearing up my hazy mind and causing my heart to race. I opened my eyes, yet could not move. No matter how much I tried to move even the smallest digit, everything refused to budge. Sleep paralysis? It became a struggle to breathe. My chest heaved. I could feel sweat drip down my brow. I was helpless- truly and utterly helpless.

A roiling bubbling noise began to fill the room with audible disturbance, and the lamps started to flicker and wane as they began to shake. The shelves rattled, jars fell from their place and smashed against the floor in a cluster fuck of spices and glass. When I blinked again, a puddle of black fluid trickled down the ceiling, cascading down the walls and painting everything a stygian hue in thick, wet streams.

I’ve given you a task, boy.

There was a voice, echoing and booming with resounding thuds pulsing all throughout my soul, filling my entire form the trepidatious feeling of dread and worry.

Varon?

Did you not think that I would take measures to assure your loyalty? With every gift comes a hefty price; it’d be in your best interest to learn that.

What...how?

As we speak, the mind serum is working it’s effects on you. Your confusion is understandable, if not expected. It was a simple matter of mere deduction to know about your…’uniqueness.’ Having no essence, lacking a soul, was a simple work around. The human body is one filled with intrigue. A few chemicals here, a few hormones there, a slight tweak in alterations...now you can hear my voice no matter where you are. It works both ways; I am eager to see when my emotions...my very thoughts, become your own. Perhaps you have experienced such an occurrence already, knowing something you shouldn’t have at the time.

That wasn’t possible, I didn’t have any foresight into...no. How’d I know that the object Varon wanted me to get was a ring? He...he never told me!

An error on my part, rectified by what you are hearing now. Regardless, the objectives have changed. Bring me what I desire, and in addition, send a message. Take whatever those rats hold most dear. Drag it underneath the waves...or die. There must be retribution for such thievery.

I...I…

Take your time. I look forward to your completion of this assignment. Serve me...and be rewarded greatly. There will be a time when you are released...so long as you cater to my wishes when the time arises. In time, I wonder if you’ll have a choice.

Bastard...fucking bastard!

Everything fell quiet; I wanted to scream in defiance. I wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare! I wanted to go home! I WANTED TO GO HOME.

I wanted to...kill.

My eyes opened.


	31. 31

Chapter 31

 

\-------------

…..Or so I thought.

The next few moments came to me in short, blipped, blurs. Something had changed, and it wasn’t the black ooze trickling from the walls, neither was it the searing pain coursing through my brain with every breath I took. No, those had been mere fragments of some fucked up little nightmare that came with the overindulgence of alcohol and Asian cuisine. Perhaps it was the fact that I was on my stomach, my cheeks mashed up against the floor as a thin layer of sweat coated my entire body. Yeah, that was probably it.

“My goodness, Rocket. Are you alright?”

Goto’s voice came to me, albeit sounding a little slurred and muffled when it reached my ears. To say that I felt disoriented was an understatement; it felt as if someone punched me in the stomach a few times before kicking me in the face for good measure. If this was what a hangover felt like, then I sure as hell was never touching beer or liquor for the rest of my life.

“Y-Yeah…” I mumbled, wiping my eyes with my hands before sitting up with a groan. “I think I just had a bad nightmare, that’s all.”

The old chef placed his hands on my shoulders, giving them a light squeeze before he lightly tapped me on the face. “That is good to hear. I was about to wake up Arishima-sama and tell her that you had suddenly become ill. This must be because of those two sisters, force feeding you their vicorous brew to take advantage of you. It would do them some good if they were simply prohibited from bringing-”

“Goto-san,” I interrupted, putting my hand on his wrist. “Please. It’s just Oni culture and in their nature. Granted, I’m glad you came when you did, but there’s no need to go about confronting others when they’re just a couple of frisky females.”

He looked at me, raising an eyebrow as a quizzical look began to take hold in his features. Opening his mouth, he motioned to say something, only falling silent before ultimately shaking his head. “Alright, alright. You were out for the entire day, so I became concerned for your well being.”

“The entire day?” I repeated. “What time is it?”

“I believe it is around midnight, Rocket-kun.”

Shit. There it was again; the bad habit of passing out for hours at a time followed by brief bouts of blurry consciousness. It was hard getting used to the lack of clarity, and every part of me wished that it wasn’t going to become a frequent occurrence.

“I...I gotta walk around.” Said I, standing up. “It’ll be good to get some fresh air. I can’t remember the last time I had some quiet time to myself.”

I looked at him as I said that. “No offence.”

“Fret not, for I was just going to bed.” The Chef chuckled, waving me off. “Well, you know where I’ll be if you wish to retire or need an evening snack. Please watch yourself, though. Yukio will be on watch tonight. The girl gets on quite the edge when someone is up and about during these late hours. Regardless of who you are, she takes her job very seriously.”

Oh great, probably another Oni with an attitude problem. That, or just a really ‘frustrated’ one. I’d have to stay clear of her. After all, I breath of fresh air wasn’t all that I would be taking…

\----  
The sounds of a creaking ship filled the night air as I once again stepped onto the deck of some godforsaken ship. Hopefully, this little naval voyage wouldn’t last much longer. And by that, I meant we reach the docks safe and sound. One vicious battle was enough for a weekend, hell, enough for a lifetime, even. As the waves lapped against the bune, a light breeze caused the dangling paper lamps to flicker and wane. The pale light from a full moon bathed the area in its entirety, and upon looking around, I could see the reflections from the surface of the sea glisten into the vast unknown.

Upon the wind came the lonely melody of a single bamboo flute, the drawn out notes and tunes enveloping my head and caressing it like that of a thick liquid; my skull tingled. It wasn’t like Diana, where I felt compelled to approach where the noise was coming from. Rather, I was content to simply watch and listen.

It was the Blue Oni from earlier playing, much to my surprise. I had expected someone different, considering Goto said a different name. Or perhaps it was merely her first, in which case it being Yukio Nakasone. I’ll admit, she was quite lovely, the way she sat there upon the railings, her lips pursed around the tip of that little pipe. Her yellow eyes shone brightly in the dark, and despite being half lidded, I could feel her gaze shift to me the moment I entered the light. She said nothing, however, opting to merely continue pay me no heed.

Leaning against the mast, I breathed in. The air was stale and salty, yet it was full and free of the dampness and musk I had grown accustomed to. All that was left to do was continue to listen, watch, and wait.

After a brief span, the song faded out into silence. It took all of my courage not to cry out in alarm when, upon blinking, the Oni had appeared right next to me.

“You’re up rather late.” Yukio stated firmly, placing her hand against the pillar and leaning in. “I find that rather...disconcerting. What is your business?”

“Just enjoying the view, grabbing some air, the usual.” I replied, looking her in the eyes. “Why, is there a problem?”

“To put it bluntly, yes.” She placed a hand on one of the two katanas at her side. “I don’t trust you, but I do have faith in my Master’s judgement. By the almighty, if you ever so much as look at her the wrong way…”

“Jesus, lady! Don’t be jumping to all those conclusions now! I’m just a survivor!” I raised my arms defensively, quickly shaking my head and taking a step back. “Can’t we just, you know, talk like civilized people?”

“No.” She huffed, crossing her arms. “I haven’t seen in you in a good long while, even when Arishima-sama sent you off. It’s suspicious as well as threatening. What were you doing?”

God, this bitch was nosy. Getting on my nerves, too.

“You ask alotta questions, Nakasone.” I smirked, dropping the honorifics. “To answer your question, the reason for my absence was due to your two oh so loveable subordinates trying to get me drunk and fuck me.” I curled my lips up in disgust. “So much for discipline, hm?”

I was roughly pushed up against the column as Yukio suddenly reached out and grabbed me by the collar, leaning in and flashing her pearly whites as she all but growled. “Watch your tongue, human. I have no qualms giving you a bruise should you overstep your boundaries.”

“Heh,” I muttered out, biting my lip. “You say you aren’t very fluent, yet the threats from your lips come through pretty coherently. I ain’t an English teacher, but you ain’t half bad at talkin’ shit.”

Her grip upon me began to tighten, and for a moment I could’ve swore I was going to get punched. I was being reckless and bold, but I’ve had enough of being pushed around. Frankly, I was sick of taking flak from everyone, I was tired of being the damn errand boy. After this task of Varon, I’m fucking making my own way through this goddamn hellhole.

“You...You…” Nakasone clenched her teeth, letting go of me and taking a step back. “I must be going now. For your own benefit, I suggest you do the same.”

She all but stomped off, and I could sense her anger long after she turned the corner and went below deck.

All according to plan. You piss off a monster enough, and they can’t do anything about it? They’ll most likely go away. Masumi’s room was now unguarded, and all I had to do was sneak right in and steal that trinket right from under her tail. What was she doing with the ring, anyway? Then again, what was so important about it? Best not to ask questions, I suppose. There'd be less trouble the less I knew.

I crept up to the door, wordless looking around as I glanced down at the locks. A quick turn of the knob should give me an indication of…

Click.

No locks on the door? Well, it made sense when you thought about it. There was no need for a proper lock and key system when you had your own security force on board. Too bad for her, Oni are hot blooded things. Even the blue ones can get fired up when rubbed the wrong way.

Yet, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty about doing this. They'd taken me in, clothed me, fed me, cleaned me up…

Sure, there was the almost rape part but that was to be expected. They were decent enough folk, from what I saw of them so far. I'm not really a liar; there was an innate wrongness to taking advantage of someone's trust only to later stab them in the back. However, when it came down to it, getting home was the only thing that mattered. And, in order to do that, I would have to live through this long enough to find a way back. Once I was back home, I could catch up with my folks, have a couple beers, play some vidya…

I shook my head. Enough rambling.

Opening the door, I tiptoed quietly into the room. Making sure to cover my tracks, I closed the entryway behind me. Sure, that would make things a helluva lot darker, but it shouldn't be that difficult to get what I needed. After all, I did go to my fair share of house parties against the wishes of my parents.

I paused, listening to the ambience around me.

Nothing.

Either this little Tanuki was a quiet sleeper or she was absent from the room altogether. I just hoped it would be the one most convenient for me. It would look bad no matter how you put it if I was discovered. Granted, I was about to do a bad thing, but still.

Suppressing a curse underneath my breath, I inched forward. I had severely underestimated how dark it was. Pitch black was the most apt word to describe it. I couldn't see anything, hear anything, zip, nadda. Call me paranoid, but all odds pointed at this being a set up. I knew they seemed to trust a little too easily. I should've realized it sooner.

Just place one foot in front of the other…

My foot snagged on something, and down I went, tumbling.

It was all over. I was screwed. Game over man, game over!

Shock overcame me when I landed on something soft, much like a mattress that muffled the noise of my descent. This area must be strewn with pillows and the like then, much like the lounge.

Motioning to get up, I paused when I felt a pair of hands wrap around my neck, followed by something warm and fuzzy curling itself around my waist and pulling me close.

“Mmm…there you are, bunny-bo bo. I thought you were around here somewhere.”

That was Masumi’s voice.

Ah, fuck! I was fucking caught!

Suddenly there was snoring.

Was she...sleep talking? Was I being mistaken for some sort of stuffed animal? Or perhaps she slept with a bag of money? Either way, I didn't want to stick around to find out.

The next few moments were going to be tricky, but like always, I have a thing for pulling a miracle or two outta my ass.


End file.
